


Dean X Male Reader One Shots

by selfsabotaged



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddles, Daddykink, Fluff, M/M, XReader, babyboy, deanwinchester - Freeform, samwinchester - Freeform, xmalereader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-01 01:30:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 42,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21315157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selfsabotaged/pseuds/selfsabotaged
Summary: Just a set of one shots i've written up for my fellow Dean fanboys.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 22
Kudos: 56





	1. Baby Boy's Hysterics

The house is brimming with unfamiliar people and unfamiliar smells. The dingy carpet beneath your feet is crowded with unknown stains. You stand from the broken couch. _What’s taking them so long?_ You walk by the kitchen and catch a fragment of something John said.

“Yeah I had to sell her in order to survive. I sold it to a dealership in Nashville. Dean’s gonna be pissed at me, but it’s just a car I’m sure he’ll get over it.”You stop in the doorway to the kitchen my mouth agape. _He sold the Impala?!_ You push through the crowd of people and sprint out the front door. You have to get that car back. You fumble with your own car keys finally getting the key in the lock. You slide into my car and back out the driveway. _Nashville, you need to get to Nashville._ You drive frantically for hours on end searching when you finally spot it in a parking lot. You screech into the parking lot and jump out. You approach a wary-looking, cheap-suited salesman.

“How much for that Impala?”You pant, trying to calm yourself. The amount of adrenaline running through your system was probably not healthy.

“That Impala just came in today. It’s not for sale. It’s not even been processed yet,” The salesman looks at you with fear in his eyes. You clench your fists in frustration, knowing that that car is the only thing that matters. You get back into your car, slumping in the driver’s seat, your head against the wheel. You faintly hear your phone ringing. You grasp at it in the passenger's seat and numbly answer it.

“Baby? Where are you? Dad says you left out of here in a hurry, really upset.” Dean’s rich baritone soothes some of the ache in your chest.

“I’m-” You stop the knot in your throat becoming unbearable.

“Just come home to me baby boy. Whatever it is that’s bothering you we’ll figure it out. Ok?” You mutter something along the lines of acknowledgement and hang up the phone. You throw it back in the passenger seat carelessly. You take the mind numbing drive back your heart in your feet the entire time. You pull into the driveway and see the brothers standing there waiting for you.

You pull the keys out of the ignition, your vision begins to blur with a renewal of tears. A knock at your window makes you jump and you look up to see Dean’s concerned face.

“Come here baby,” His voice is muffled by the pane of glass between you but you reach for the door handle. You open the car door and get out standing there your cloudy vision on your feet. You hear something whispered between Dean and Sam. Dean reaches for you and pulls you into his embrace. “Tell me what’s wrong honey. I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”

“Your dad sold the Impala and,”You hiccup, your breath hitching. “And I was trying to get it back because I know how much it means to you but but but they wouldn’t sell it to me.” Dean rubs your back as you sob and snot.

“Look at me,” You lift your chin to look up at him. “I don’t give a damn about that car. I know that sounds ironic considering what I would have done to protect that car, but all I care about right now is how upset you are. I appreciate what you tried to do for me.” He looks down at you with an endearing smile. He hugs you tight and whispers,”It’ll be ok baby boy. You’ll be ok.”


	2. Draw Me

“We’re back!” Sam and Dean tromp down the steps covered in the gore of their last hunt. You come out from the back hallway and wrinkle your nose when the scent hits you.

“You stink,”You hold your nose and Dean laughs swooping down to kiss you. “Absolutely not. Not until you have a shower.” Sam tries to smother a laugh and Dean rolls his eyes setting his gear bag down on the floor. They both head to their respective rooms for a shower and you head back to your designated “art room”. The smell of fresh paint always puts you at ease whenever you open the door. You shut the door behind you making sure to step over the fresh paint spots on the floor. You return to the canvas in the corner and pick up the charcoal pencil. You finish the lines of his body and begin to blend the lines making them blurry and making it seem as though he is bleeding at the edges. You pick up a green colored pencil shading in his irises. You pick up a different pencil and dot in freckles in the light parts of his face. You step back and stare at your work of art. Dean is looking over his shoulder at you, a light dust of freckles on his face, and his green eyes piercing.

“Nikolai you in there?”Sam’s voice startles you out of your reverie and you pick the canvas up carrying it with you to the door, the drawing facing your body. 

“You can open it Sam. I’ve got my hands full,”You see a freshly showered Sam as he opens the door for you. He raises his eyebrows at your hands full of canvas. “You wanna see?” He shrugs, noncommittal. You look down the hallway on both sides and flip the canvas around so he can see. His eyes become the size of dinner plates and his jaw almost hits the floor.

“You drew that?! That’s amazing!” You shush him listening for any indication of Dean.

“It’s a present for Dean,” You say grinning like an idiot. You hear footsteps down the hallway and you flip the canvas back around. “Dean?” You call, your voice echoing in tandem with his footsteps. 

“I’m coming,”He reaches you smelling fresh and musky. He tips his chin towards your drawing. “Whatcha got there baby?” You give him a shy smile and flip it towards him. 

“This is for you. I made it while you guys were gone and if you don’t like-”Dean stops you mid sentence with soft and gentle lips on yours. His eyes sparkle when he smiles taking the canvas from you to inspect it closer. His mouth parts in awe and he sets the canvas down leaning it against the wall.

“It’s beautiful honey. Thank you so so much. I love it.”He hugs you again, kissing you sweetly. You hear Sam snort behind you and Dean pulls away from you to glare at him. “Come on Sam. You ruined the moment.” Sam walks by us towards the kitchen and says over his shoulder, “I thought you didn’t like chick flick moments.”

“My baby is the only exception,” Your face is flushed and you duck your head. He kisses you again and throws his arm around your shoulders squeezing you tightly. “Thanks handsome. I appreciate it.”


	3. Black Eyes

_Well if this is how I go out I guess I’ll go out wearing at a pretty face._ Dean looks at you his head cocked to the side.

“You ok?” You nod saying nothing, knowing that if your vessel opens its mouth you’re done for. Dean Winchester is merciless and won’t hesitate to exorcise you. Dean raises his eyebrows at you but he turns back to his work. You stand from the table at the diner heading for the restroom in the back. When you get to the bathroom you close the door behind you and lock it. Looking in the mirror you blink and your eyes turn black. A malicious smile flickers across your face and your eyes turn back to their normal color. You bang on the inside of your mind screaming to be let out and the demon laughs. _Not quite yet my boy. I haven’t had the pleasure of being in bed with your man yet._ You sit in the corner of your mind pouting in frustration. The demon exits the bathroom, walking back to the table. The boys are standing, putting on their jackets. Dean throws some money on the table and yells to the waitress to keep the change.

“Ready to go babe?”The demon inside you nods and smiles innocently. Dean’s eyes narrow and he watches the demon grab your jacket and sling it over one shoulder. The car ride back to the bunker is silent and the demon inside you realizes something. _I won’t be able to get into the bunker. It’s warded._

“Hey Dean?” Your voice is odd coming out of your own mouth because you know it’s a demon speaking. Dean turns his head slightly acknowledging. “Can you pull over? I think I’m gonna be sick.” Dean’s eyes turn the size of dinner plates and he jerks the car over to the side of the road. The demon opens the door, pretending to stumble out, and fall to their knees. They dry heave and Dean kneels down next to you rubbing your back.

“You ok baby?” The demon wipes your mouth and looks over their shoulder at Dean. The demon makes you nod hesitantly, and Dean helps you up. Dean goes back to the driver’s side door waiting for you to approach the car as well. The demon stands there for a second, tilting your head. The demon blinks and the black eyes appear only for a second and then your eyes return to normal. Dean tenses, staring hard at you. “Sam. Get out of the car,” Sam gives Dean a look and throws the papers he was reading onto the driver’s seat, climbing out of the car. Dean pulls his gun and points it at you.

“Dean, what the hell are you doing?”

“Pull your gun Sam. That’s not him anymore.”The demon flicks the black eyes back into place and smiles maliciously.

“Awwww poor boys,” Your voice saying these words makes you scream inside. The demon grips your head stumbling backwards. _Dean! Dean!_ “Dean it’s me!,” The demon snarls and beats you back down. Dean’s grin is savage as he and Sam advance on the snarling demon.

“That’s my boy,” You can just barely hear him say it, but it fills you with pride nonetheless. The demon finally decides that it’s time to go and he evacuates your body in a cold of oily black smoke. You collapse to the ground your legs bent underneath you. Dean rushes to your side shoving his gun back in his waistband. Your eyes open slowly and when Dean sees that they’re their normal color he hugs you to him. You wrap your arms around him closing your eyes and resting your head against his chest. “You did good. You fought good.” He picks up your tired, limp body and carries you back to the car laying you down in the backseat.

“Sleep for a while dude.” Sam’s words send you off into unconsciousness.


	4. Fahrenheit 101

_It’s really cold in here. I should get up and adjust the thermostat._You rise from the bed, zombie-like and shivering. Wrapped in a blanket and stumbling you step into the hallway. You immediately run into a solid object. You squint up at the blurry figure until your eyes finally resolve the image. You scream, backpedaling as Lucifer’s grinning face hovers over you. Forgetting your blanket you scramble forward finally getting your feet underneath you. Echoing footsteps behind you makes you run faster until you’re gasping for air in the library. Both brothers appear around the corner guns out and raised, and you bolt for Dean.

“Dean!”You’re sobbing and shaking by this point.” Dean! L-L-L-L,” You can’t get the words to come out fast enough because your breath is coming out in hitches. Dean motions for Sam to keep looking and he flips the safety on shoving his gun in his pocket.

“Baby what’s wrong? We heard you scream. You’re supposed to be in bed.” He puts his hand up to your forehead frowning in concern.

“I-I saw Lucifer,”You grip his jacket in your fists, your head spinning, and your eyes falling closed. Dean grips you by your elbows and holds you up as your body gives out.

“Honey, I think the cough syrup has gone to your head,”Dean’s voice is distant and far away. “Lucifer isn’t here,” He picks you up cradling you against his chest as he walks. Your head is swimming and you can barely remember where you are. Dean lays you down on a soft warm bed. You clutch to his forearm, digging in your fingernails and refusing to let go. He pries your hand off and you feel the bed dip beside you. The sound of boots hitting the floor startles you and your eyes slowly crack open to see Dean stripping down to his boxers. He crawls underneath the sheets with you, pulling you into his chest.

”Sleep baby boy. I've got you. Lucifer can't touch you here.You’re safe.” You drift off to sleep Lucifer’s hellfire eyes burned into the back of your eyelids.

You awaken to the fires of hell licking at you. Well, figuratively. You squirm to get away from Dean’s grip and you fall onto the floor sweating and panting.

Dean startles awake when you hit the floor pulling a gun out from underneath your pillow scanning for threats. When he spots you on the floor his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Angel? What are you doing on the floor?”He shoves the fun back under the pillow and throws the sheets off, walking around the bed until he’s standing over you. He looks like a god from your spot on the floor and in your delirious state it almost slips out, _God is that you?_ “Come on sweet boy.”Dean crouches helping you off the floor. He surprises you when he grabs you under the armpits and picks you up like a toddler. He cuddles you to his chest and sits down in an armchair in the room. “Sleep. I’ve got you.” Your eyes slide closed and you fall into a deep sleep.


	5. Tell Me Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this in advance. I'm not very good at dirty chapters, but I wanted to try my hand at it.

_I’m fucked. Shit shit shit._ You slide to a stop at the door, falling to your knees and presenting. Dean opens the door to the bunker and spots you immediately. Your eyes are on the floor, head down. I’m so gonna get punished. 

“Mmmmm look at this pretty specimen.” His finger tilts your chin up and your legs begin to quiver half anticipation and half fear.“Presenting for me like a good boy. I wonder what my boy did? Hmmm?” You bite your lip your eyes betraying your fear. “Come on angel fess up. What is it that you did that has you practically shaking in fear?”

“I-I-I didn’t eat today.” Your lip begins to quiver and tears fill your eyes. Your tears dry when Dean grabs you by your upper arm pulling you to your feet. You can feel your arm begin to bruise as he drags you to your bedroom. _You’re about to get punished stop getting turned on._ The bulge in your pants is prominent as Dean drops you onto the floor.

“Strip.” His command sends shivers through you as you strip down to your bare flesh, the air conditioning of the bunker sending goosebumps skittering across your skin. “How do you want your punishment?” Dean stands before you his eyes blazing with fury. You open your mouth to speak but then realize it’s a trap, he was testing you. You say nothing, keeping your head down, and your eyes on the floor. His chuckle sends shivers down your spine. “Good boy.” He strokes your head. “I’ve decided on your punishment. It’s your favorite.” Dean’s smile is almost malicious as he says,” Orgasm denial.”

He kneels in front of you leaning forward until his breath is hot on your lips. You close your eyes in pure bliss as he kisses you slowly. His tongue slips into your mouth and you whimper in ecstasy. You kiss him back, your tongues tangled. He pushes you until you’re lying on your back. The cold of the floor makes you shiver but is forgotten when Dean’s hands begin to wander. His mouth makes its way down your body leaving wet kisses in its wake. He reaches your shaft and grins at you, licking a long stripe up the side.

_“Daddy,”_ You whimper as he takes the tip into his mouth, licking the salty precum off the head. He tortures you slowly and deliciously until you’re on the brink and then he leaves you. You lay on the floor stunned and reeling. The room echoes as Dean shuts the door behind him. You rise from the floor wincing and everything aching. Your poor tortured member is purple from the abuse. 

You spend the rest of the night in agony. You crawl into bed that night hypersensitive, every scratch of the sheets against your skin sends you into shivers. You eventually fall into an uneasy slumber and are awoken by hot hands on your skin.

“It’s time to take care of you,” Dean buries his face in your neck leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your skin tingles and you arch your back, crying out. _Relief finally oh god._

_“S-S-Sir oh god,”_ You dig your nails into the forearms wrapped around your torso and hear a hiss of pleasure. A hand grips you and you whimper rutting your hips into his. He begins to pump and you’re practically seeing stars by the time you’re close to climax. Dean licks a long stripe on your neck and you’re done for. You come and it’s like heavens gates have opened.

“Good boy. Such a good boy for Daddy hm? Is my sweet angel going to eat something for Daddy now?”_Anything for you Sir._


	6. Bloody smile

_ **Inspired by the song Consume by Chase Atlantic.** _

_Crack._ Your cheek blossoms with pain, your split skin dripping blood onto your ruined pants.

“That all you got?”You spit on the floor, dark spots of blood marring the floor. “Come on Lucifer.”You leer at him, leaning forward until the ropes anchoring you to the chair cut into you. “Bet you can’t hit me harder.” Lucifer clocks you for that one, hitting you so hard the chair you’re tied to falls backwards. You see stars as you knock your head against the ground. You smile at Lucifer, blood coating your teeth.

“You are a strange one aren’t you?”Lucifer crouches next to your head. He trails a finger down your face. “Maybe I can torture you in other ways.” His finger trails farther down heading for your waistband, and you struggle against the ropes. The chair decides it’s finally had enough of your wriggling and snaps into pieces. You snarl at Lucifer wiggling backwards. You manage to get far enough away to climb to your feet. You tear at the ropes around your wrists wrenching the wooden arms of the chair out of their confines. You don’t have enough time to remove the chair legs before Lucifer is on you. He picks you up by your neck your feet dangling above the floor.

“I’m going to make you wish you were never born.” He pounces on you and he keeps up on his promise only providing you relief when he slams your head against the wall so hard you black out.

_Cold. Scratch. Crunch._ You try to open your eyes but both of them are swollen shut. You shakily rise from the ground trying to glean anything from your environment. Cold, crunch of leaves under your hands, rustling of the forest as the cold wind chaps your cheeks. 

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Your words come out slurred and broken. You reach out with your hands, searching for any kind of landmark to guide you. Your hands brush against a cold metal door and you almost cry in relief when you feel the insignia of the men of letters crest engraved on the door. You bang on the door, crying and screaming. When the door suddenly disappears you fall forward, bashing your already beaten face on smooth tile hardwood floors. The cocking of a hammer echoes through your ears.

“Who the hell are you? How’d you find this place?” Sam’s voice is harsh and angry. 

“Sammy. It’s me,” Of course since your face is busted it doesn’t come out sounding like that . Instead you reach up to your torn shirt, you almost scream when you pull it up over your head. Despite all the knife wounds and blood your Anti-Possession tattoo is stark against your lacerated skin.

“DEAN IT'S HIM!” Sam stows his gun and falls to his knees before you. You reach out blindly looking to anchor yourself. He grabs your hands, trying to pull you up. You cry out as your torn ligaments scream in agony. You fall back to your knees and Sam yells again. “DEAN GET UP HERE!” Dean’s boots pound against the stairs and suddenly there are rough warm hands against your face.

“Oh baby boy what did he do to you?”Dean’s arms come around you, an arm going under your butt and picking you up as though you were a toddler that fell asleep in the car.” Don’t worry angel I’ve got you. Sammy and I are gonna fix you up.” Your addled brain drifts off until Dean sets you down on the bathroom sink. 

“Stay right here baby,” You reach for him not wanting him to go. His sigh is sad as he gives Sam a list of things he needs. He continues to hold you, rubbing your back as you shiver. You lean back, something pressing against the back of your mind. Suddenly it comes back to you, the things Lucifer did to you. You fist Dean’s flannel, trying to tell him. “What is it honey? Is something wrong?” You tell him of the things Lucifer did you to physical, mental, and sexual. He vibrates with so much anger you think he could fly apart at the seams.

They fix you up to the best of their ability, and Dean refuses to let you leave his sight. He tucks you into his bed, refusing to let you leave. The swelling in your eyes finally goes down enough for you to open them, and it’s like the floodgates burst. Your eyes fill with tears when you see Dean. He looks so tired, his clothes are rumpled, and his expression even in sleep is a tense one. The croak that comes out of your mouth sounds like death.

“_Dean,” _He startles awake reaching for his gun when he sees you looking at him.

“Hey there handsome,” He sits next to you combing his fingers through your hair. “It’s so good to see those beautiful eyes of yours.” He kisses you gently on the forehead.

_This right here. This is what I’ve been looking for. Don’t ever leave me. I might break._

“I love you,” Your smile is painful, your lips splitting and breaking. Blood running into your mouth, you give him your best _Bloody Smile._

“I love you too.”


	7. Just Improved

_I don’t know if I’m going to make it much longer._ You tighten your grip on the shotgun as his voice echoes down the hallway, getting closer. You clamp your mouth shut.

“Baby boy don’t you wanna come see me?”You hold your breath as his boots clomp by the closet you’re hiding in. He kicks in a door nearby and you let out a squeak. The tension is unbearable as Dean stops in front of your closet. He tests the knob and the chuckle that escapes his lips is one that sends shivers down your spine.

“Is daddy’s boy playing hide and seek? By the sounds of it you’re not very good at this honey.”The door rips outwards and you point the shotgun at him. The barrel is shaking so you’ll never get a straight shot off. He grabs the barrel, dragging you out of the closet. The shotgun goes flying down the hallway and the clatter of it hitting the floor sets your teeth on edge.

“This isn’t you Dean,” You try to be brave and stand tall but the way he’s looking at you makes your knees shake and your mouth water.

“Oh but it is,” Forest green is replaced with inky black as Dean’s self control seems to melt. He bares his teeth in a feral grin, pushing you up against the wall.

“Oh but it is. I’m still me baby boy. I’m just improved.” Forest green is replaced with inky black as Dean’s self control begins to melt. He bares his teeth in a feral grin, pushing you up against the wall. You struggle pushing and scratching at him, doing anything to get away.

“Dean,” Castiel appears over his shoulder. You whimper as Dean’s grip on you tightens. 

“Hey Cas, come to join the fun?” Dean lets you go and you bolt, sprinting for your abandoned shotgun. You fumble with it, sending it skittering farther down the hallway, You finally get your hands on it and when you turn, the barrel pointed at Dean, he’s standing right in front of you. The black pools that used to be his eyes stare you down until the barrel is pointing at the floor. Your bottom lip begins to tremble and you feel hopeless. I can’t save him. He’s gone. You can feel your hold on your adult self beginning to slip as you regress. You sink to the ground, laying on the cold floors. A body heat behind you makes you sit up. Rubbing your eyes, you look up to see who it is. When you see forest green eyes you launch yourself at him, clinging on for dear life.

“Daddy,”You sniffle. “Where bad man?” He rubs your back soothingly and stands. He cradles you placing a hand on the back of your head.

“Bad man is gone baby. Daddy will protect you,” He smiles at you so achingly sweet despite the evil swirling underneath the surface. Castiel stares in confusion and abject horror as Dean carries you away, his beautiful eyes flickering black for a moment before the forest green takes back over. He walks for what seems like forever and in the expansive floor plan of the bunker it could have been forever. Something stops him and it’s like the express train to New York hits you in the face. You come back into yourself and screech pushing away from him and falling onto the floor. You scramble backwards and climb to your feet._ This isn’t the Dean I know. I have to remember that. It may be the same face, but he is definitely not the same sweet person I fell in love with._

“Get behind me,” Sam grabs you by your arm, placing you protectively behind him.

“You can’t protect him forever Sammy. **He’s mine<\b>,” Dean’s voice drops into a growl and he spins on his heel. He stalks away from us towards the other end of the bunker, heading for the dungeon.**


	8. Something New

_This is new._ You examine the blue glow coming from your hands. You feel a rush of power flowing through your arm and you reach out to touch Dean on impulse. You place your fingers on his forehead and he blinks at you in confusion. Your head fills with his thoughts and you heal all his current wounds. Dean stands from his chair, knocking it backwards.

“What the hell?” You tilt your head at him and smirk.

“Heaven rather,” Your grin is full of mischief and mirth. “Apparently I’m an angel now.” You look to Cas who shrugs his shoulders.

“I had nothing to do with this. Someone in heaven is apparently playing games.” You mirror Cas and shrug, flexing your glowing fingers. You hear something rustle behind you and spin. You glare at the empty air, and when you hear it again you turn back. You quickly realize what’s happening and you spread your wings. Dean gasps and steps forward reaching for you. His fingers graze your feathers and you shiver nearly falling to your knees. He withdraws when he sees your reaction, his face hesitant and unsure.

“When you touch an angel’s wings they,” Cas pauses as if he is considering his next words. “Feel immense pleasure.” Dean raises his eyebrows and he smirks. Sam makes a sound of disgust. A lightbulb pops off in your head and your smile turns malicious.

“Come with me Dean.” You beckon him heading for the stairs leading farther into the bunker.

“Keep it down at least will you?” Sam grumbles, picking up a pencil and staring at his computer. Dean follows you deeper into the bunker like an eager puppy. You raise your hand till it’s at his eye level and then dramatically snap your fingers. You hear him collapse to the floor, groaning and panting. You look at him over your shoulder. He’s on his hands and knees, shaking. The wet spot forming on the front of his jeans tells you all that you need to know. You let him climb to his feet. He glares at you and you smile, continuing down the hallway. You stop at your room, arching an eyebrow at him as he stands there awkwardly.

“Are you coming?” Dean glares at you when you crack a smile and open the door, expecting him to follow you. That trick becomes your favorite to use on him when he’s least expecting it. He’s doing research with Sam? All of a sudden he’s running for the bathroom. He’s cleaning one of his weapons? He falls to his knees, panting and flushed like a teenager. Mid-shower? You don’t care, you love to see him fall to his knees in pieces because of you.


	9. Elephant in the Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs featured in Italics are as follows  
Revelation - Troye Sivan  
Titanic - Jackson Wang  
Angels - Chase Atlantic

_You’re a revelation  
Won’t you liberate me now  
From a holy world  
You’re a revolution  
I will liberate you now  
As the walls come down_

A smack to the back of your head brings you out of your melancholy. You take your earbuds out and turn. Irritably you ask, “What the hell was that for?” Your best friend grins back at you.

“Looked like you could use a good smack. The sadness was creeping back into your face. Thinking about Dean again?” Your face turns red and you start to sputter.

“No, I stopped mourning over our relationship a long time ago.” They raise their eyebrows and shake their head, sighing as if eternally disappointed in you. They sit back in their seat, resting their head on their chest. They sigh heavily and in seconds, as per usual, they are asleep. You turn back to the front windshield, putting your headphones back in.

_It’s a revelation  
There’s no hell in what I’ve found  
No kingdom shell  
How the tides are changing  
As you liberate me now  
And the walls come down_

_Crunch._ The vamp’s neck cleaves in half and blood splatters your face as you pull the axe out. You wipe the blood from your face and readjust your headphones, not even looking over your shoulder as another vamp lunges for you.

_I got your girl on panic  
Iced out my wrist Titanic  
Like 2-1, I’m on my savage  
No airport but claim my baggage  
I’m on the run I’m on the run_

You spin, cleaving the incoming vamp in half. You hear a loud bang. You pull your headphones off. The tinny music coming from your headphones is loud in the silence.

_Your girl gon choose  
I’m on the up  
The boy and the man yeah I’m all in one _

“Hi there,” The cheery voice comes from your right and you spin to face it hoisting your axe. The man stands there looking skeptical. He points to your axe. “That’s not gonna do much to me boyo. It might tickle a bit though.”

“Who are you?”

_But I used to be the one who caught the bus  
On that red line 1, don’t need transit  
Only crew no friends  
When you see me that’s it_

“They call me the Trickster and I think you have some catching up to do.”He snaps his fingers and abruptly you’re in an ornate room with a dining table running the middle of it.

_They ain’t even like me last year  
Now they know my face  
China on the bass  
We be in the place_

“Son of a bitch,” You sit down at the table surprised when a plate and goblet appear in front of you. The food seems out of place in such a clean room, but you shrug your shoulders. You dig in, you can’t say the last time you had a decent meal.

_“Son of a bitch!” _A familiar voice echoes through the room and you look up from your food. A broad-shouldered, bow-legged, weathered individual appears on the opposite side of the room. You stand from the table, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor makes Dean reach for a gun that isn’t there.

“Hello Dean,” Your voice is quiet, your teeth gritted.

_Damn like the K-Dot CD  
They watch me like I’m on TV  
Brought this shit back  
But I ain’t got receipts  
Cookin’ up Bobby Flay  
When I’m on this beat yeah_

Dean’s eyes go flat and he glares at you.

“Trickster get you too?”You nod, flopping back in your chair.

“Alright you two,” The Trickster reappears looking way too happy. “You lovebirds either deal with the elephant in the room or you stay here forever. Your choice,” He grins and snaps his fingers, disappearing in a poof of sparkles. Dean flops down opposite you and glares at the floor as though hoping it would swallow him. The tinny music coming from your still playing headphones changes.

_It’s getting late  
I know you prolly wanna stay  
It’s complicated but  
I’m in the mood to spill my brains to you_

“The sooner we talk about it, the sooner this will be over.

“There isn’t anything to talk about,” Dean’s stony gaze lifts from the floor and centers on you. That gaze hasn’t changed and it still sends heat flooding through you even after all these years. “We broke up and nothing’s changed since then.” You grit your teeth and a snarl builds in your throat.

“Dean Michael Winchester you either get you head out of your ass and put away your petty man pride. Or we never get out of here.” That seems to get his attention and his shoulders sag slightly.

“I never wanted us to break up you know. I just thought I was doing what’s right.”

“You always think you’re doing what’s right Dean. Always have and probably always will even when we’re both in diapers and have grey hair.”

_If you ain’t busy take a walk with me  
We could get high and you could talk to me  
I ain’t been doing way too good lately  
I’m losing signal in the hills  
I’m having difficulties_

“I still love you, you know.” A scarce smile ghosted across his features and then it’s gone. “Those feelings never went away no matter how much I wished they would.” You look away from him.

“I never stopped loving you. Never have probably never will.” Your chuckle is a forced one. The end of it strangles off as you force back tears. “I had bought an engagement ring you know. I was gonna ask you to marry me.” You laugh again but it’s one that’s mixed with tears “And to think you ended our relationship over the end of the world. A pitiful thing.” The sound of a scraping chair brings you out of your self-pity party.

_Calling on my angels  
It’s getting darker and I’m starting to get anxious  
Nobody told me I’d be lonely when I’m famous  
The only number I haven’t changed yet  
Calling on my angels_

Dean strides toward you. You look up at him puzzled. He pins you in the chair, putting his hands on both of the armrests.

_“Yes,”_ He almost whispers it. You wrinkle your nose and he waits, impatiently, for you to figure it out. Your eyes go wide when you figure it out for yourself.

_Pleasure and pain feel the same to me  
I lost my faith but I still believe in something   
Blood in my eyes made it hard to see  
I went out searching for an angel  
Then you came to me my darling._

“You’ll be the best at domesticity. A good kitchen husband me thinks.” Dean’s laugh is loud and hearty. He leans down and kisses you, almost as if the two of you were sealing your vows right there and then.


	10. Jealousy

_Jesus Christ Professor Collins was in a bad mood._ You follow the flow of people out of the lecture hall, heading for the front door. Your phone vibrates and you juggle your stuff digging in your pocket to find it. Your face blossoms with a smile when you see a text from Dean. _Hey handsome, waiting outside. I brought you a snack! :)._ You stuff your phone back in your pocket, almost gleefully pushing people out of the way. You finally reach the front doors and stand at the top of the steps. You crane your neck, standing on your tiptoes when you catch a glimpse of the sleek black Impala. You start to head down the steps when someone catches your attention.

“Hey!” You turn towards the voice and see a pretty raven-haired girl making her way towards you. You stand there and blink at her confused._ Why would she be talking to you of all people?_ “You’re that one smart kid from my Anatomy class.”

“Yeah? What about it? My ride’s waiting for me.”

“I was thinking-” She pauses, brushing her hair behind her ear.”Maybe I could get your-” There’s a loud honk from the parking lot, and both of you look over. Dean is leaning against the hood of the Impala, a brown paper sack sitting beside him. He waves.

“Hey, baby!”You wave to him and turn back to the girl.

“You were saying?” She glances over at Dean every couple of seconds.

“I was thinking I could get your number and maybe we could get lunch sometime.”Her fingers encircle your wrist almost like she’s trying to pull you with her to that lunch now. A warm hand rests on your shoulder and you jump, looking back. Dean’s grin is full of jealousy and anger.

“Hey handsome, I brought you those snacks you like. Figured you’d be hungry. Who’s your friend?” You freeze and introduce the girl.

“This is Kelsea from my Anatomy class. She uhhh wants to take me to lunch.”The passing whispers and glances from your classmates tell you everything you need to know. Dean is eye candy and everyone knows it. Dean arches an eyebrow, wrapping a possessive arm around you.

“Is that right? Well did you tell her that you’re taken by a one Dean Winchester?”Her head cocks to the side and she looks confused.

“Who’s Dean Winchester?”

“I am. Now if you would kindly get your hands off my boyfriend we have other business to attend to.” She lets go of you, her lip curling up in disgust.

“If I had known you were gay-“ Dean cuts her off.

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence. Come on baby let’s go, we’re having dinner with Sammy tonight.” He takes your hand, intertwining your fingers, and leading you back to the Impala. You try not to show that your feelings are hurt, but a singular tear slips through. That small tear starts a waterfall and you start to cry. Dean is pissed and ushers you into the Impala. He climbs into the driver's seat and fumes for a few moments.

He glances over, his expression morphing into one of quiet anger.

“ Come here, honey. I’m not mad at you baby. I’m mad at that bitch for first of all flirting with my man.” That makes you grin like an idiot. “And I’m also ticked because she made you cry. Nobody makes my boy cry.” You snuggle up against him.

“You still have those snacks?”He chuckles and grabs the paper bag from the backseat.

“Sure do,”He hands you the paper sack and you both munch until your tears are dry and his jealousy is forgotten.


	11. Wake Up Call

**Featured Song**  
**The Village - Wrabel**

“I CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS DEAN!” You are so angry you can barely see straight. “WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN THIS TOGETHER. IF YOU KEEP RUNNING OFF AND DOING STUPID SHIT WE. ARE. DONE.” Dean’s mouth twists up into a snarl.

“Don’t you dare push this bullshit onto me. If you weren’t such an emotionally damaged basket case we wouldn’t even be talking about this right now.” He chugs his beer and slams the glass bottle back onto the table. It’s so quiet you can hear the clunk echo through the bunker.

“Glad to know how you feel jackass,” You stand from your chair, knocking it over with the force. You reach the bedroom that you share with Dean. Used to share anyway. You throw your duffel bag onto the bed and raid drawers, pulling out clothes and possessions. You grab all your belongings and trek out of the room. You lug your stuff past the brothers and into the garage. You unlock your car and throw your stuff into the passenger seat. You slam the door in Sam's face. Sam’s muffled voice falls on deaf ears as you start the car and hit the button for the garage door. You drive away leaving the brothers in your rear view mirror.

You drive and you drive and you drive. The farther that you can get away from the bunker, the better. You’re in a daze, the headlights on the empty road in front of you play a hypnotic lullaby. Your trance breaks when your cell phone’s obnoxious ringtone starts playing. You dig it out of your pocket and stare at the name on the caller ID.

“What is it, Sam? As you might have noticed I don’t exactly want to talk to anyone.”

“I know that, but I want you to think about what you’re doing. If you’re gonna go at least stay safe and be smart about it ok? Stay somewhere or with someone that you trust.” You sigh, staring into the depths of the night. You don’t respond for several seconds, your heart aching at Sam’s concern.

“Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it. If that jackass is standing next to you tell him to go fuck himself and I hope he falls off a cliff.” You hang up the phone, throwing it into the passenger seat. You drive, as if out of reflex, until you arrive at a familiar homestead. You get out of the car, grabbing your things, and trudge towards the front door. A sense of anxiety begins to overwhelm you. _What if he won’t let me in? What if he tells me, “Stop being an idjit and go work out your problems.”_You try and shake it off. _It’s Bobby. He deals with Dean all the time. He’ll understand what I’m going through._You knock on the door, duffel bag at your feet, and a mournful look on your face. The door opens after a long hesitation and Bobby stands there looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“What’d he do this time?” He ushers you inside, taking stock of your bag, which is bursting at the seams.

“He’s being a stupid jackass as per usual,” You plonk the bag down next to the couch, and fall into the couch next to it. It’s as though the couch digs its way into your soul, pulling out all the emotions you were trying to hide. You wrap your arms around yourself and begin to cry. Bobby moves your bag from the couch, sitting down where it was and wrapping an arm around you.

“I’m sorry kid. He’s always done dumb stuff like this. Ever since he was knee-high and still in diapers.” You hiccup and sob until all your energy is drained. “Why don’t you go upstairs to the guest bedroom. Settle in and get some rest. It’d probably do you some good.” You nod wiping your face with your sleeve and drag your bag upstairs to the last room on the left. You open the door and find the room clean despite the fact Bobby probably doesn’t get a lot of guests. You throw your bag onto the floor at the foot of the bed and collapse onto the duvet. Fully clothed, you drift off into an emotionally drained, dreamless sleep. Hopefully, letting nirvana take away all your pain.

You wake slowly, as if in a haze, and your environment looks foreign to you. Panic grips you and you sit straight up trying to rationalize where you are. When your brain finally catches up to the sequence of events, you sink back into the bed relieved. You spot your phone on the bedside table and you snag it. You see a voicemail on the lock screen from an unknown number. You play it and your heart breaks when you hear his voice.

_Baby, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. I love you and I’m coming to get you._ You play the message over and over again. You plug your headphones in and play the last song on your playlist.

_No your mom don’t get it_  
_And your dad don’t get it_  
_Uncle John don’t get it_  
_And you can’t tell grandma cause her heart can’t take it and she might not make it_

_They say, “ don’t dare don’t you even go there cutting off your long hair you do as your told.”_  
_Tell you, “wake up go put on your makeup this is just a phase you’re gonna outgrow.”_  
_There’s something wrong in the village_  
_In the village_

_Ooooooooh_  
_They stare in the village_  
_In the village_  
_Oooooooooh_  
_There’s nothing wrong with you_  
_It’s true_  
_It’s true_  
_There’s something wrong with the village_  
_With the village_  
_With the village_  
_There’s something wrong with the village_

_Feel the rumors follow you from Monday all the way to Friday dinner._  
_You got one day of shelter then it’s Sunday_  
_Hell to pay you young lost sinner_  
_Well, I’ve been there sitting in that same chair_  
_Whispering that same prayer half a million times_  
_It’s a lie though buried in disciples one page of the bible isn't worth a life_

You begin to cry and you fall back into a tumultuous sleep.

A gentle hand on your shoulder jerks you out of sleep and you sit up blinking sleepy eyes at a tall figure. 

“Baby? I’m so sorry,” His jaw clenches and he looks away, not making eye contact with you as a singular tear slips down his cheek.

“Dean!” You fling yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck clinging on for dear life. Your tear tracks run rivers down his neck and you two hold each other. Dean’s hand on the back of your head rocking you slightly as you sob and snot.

“If anybody is the emotionally damaged basket case it’s me, sweetheart. And for that I am sorry.”


	12. The Blood Of A Hero

_Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone._ **BEEP**

“Hey Dean it’s me. I’m just wondering when you guys will be back. It’s kinda spooky in this big ol’ bunker by myself. Well, anyways. I’ll see you when you get back. Bye.”_End of message_

_Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone._ **BEEP**

“Hey Dean I’m kinda getting worried now. I know that hunts can take a while, but it’s been 3 weeks and you haven’t returned any of my calls. Call me back _please._ Bye.”_End of message_

_Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone._ **BEEP**

“Dean Michael Winchester if you do not answer the goddamn phone I’m going to drive to Minnesota myself and drag your ass back here.**Call. Me. Back.**”_End of message_

_Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone._ **BEEP**

“Where are you? Please Dean! I can’t - I can’t take this anymore. I’ve looked for you everywhere. Just pick up the phone…...please.” _End of message_

_This is Bobby Singer’s direct hotline. You should not have this number._ ** Beep**

“Bobby I- I found the boys. They’re dead. I- I don’t know what to do. Please please please call me back.**_Please_** _End of message_

_This is my voicemail. Make your…..voice…...a mail._ **Beep**

“Cas I need a favor from you. Talk to whoever you have to but…..bring my boys back to life. I’ll pay whatever price and do whatever it takes.”_End of message_

_End of messages_


	13. 'Til The End Of The Line

**The lyrics in italics are the English translation to Boy With Luv by BTS**

_I’m curious about you, how’s your day?_   
_Oh, tell me(Oh yeah oh yeah ah yeah ah yeah)_   
_What makes you happy?_   
_Oh, text me(Oh yeah oh yeah ah yeah ah yeah)_

“Dean? Are you home?” You shut the bunker door with your butt, your arms full of groceries. You carefully make your way down the steps, avoiding the still obvious blood spot on the floor. You set the groceries down on the kitchen counter and you hear a bang from the other room. You quietly pull your gun from its holster at your back and creep out of the kitchen. You creep towards the sound’s origin and when you open the door gun drawn you see Dean sprawled on the floor. You holster your gun and stand in the doorway. His crappy headphones are on his head and he appears to have been dancing before he ungracefully toppled over. He looks up at you and grins.

“Hi, hon! Home from the grocery store? Did you remember my pie?” You laugh and help him up, standing nose to nose with him.

“You’ve fallen because of your ungraceful dancing and you want to know if I remembered pie?”

“Yes, dear. I have priorities.” He pecks your lips and steps back, resuming his dancing.

_Your every picture_   
_I wanna have under my pillow, oh, oh, bae_   
_Come be my teacher_   
_Teach me everything about you_   
_Your one, Your two_

You go back to the kitchen putting away the groceries and setting stuff aside for dinner. Dean strolls into the kitchen still wearing his headphones. He bops around for a minute before digging in the fridge and coming out with a beer. Sam walks in and stops in the doorway, looking at his brother with scrunched eyes.

“Dean, what are you doing?” He steps past you and rifles in the fridge as well. He comes out drink in hand, still giving Dean a mirthful look. Dean, not paying him a lick of attention, continues to dance around the kitchen making a fool of himself. You’re slicing tomatoes for tonight’s dinner when the bunker shakes. The knife slips and you cut your finger. You glance around and up as you suck on your finger, hissing in pain. Dean takes his headphones off and glances at Sam.

“What the hell was that?” Sam shrugs.

“Beats me,” They both draw their guns and head for the front. You suck on your finger for a moment longer, and then draw yours. You follow closely behind the brothers and halt when Dean holds up a hand. He slowly peeks around the corner and you can almost see the annoyance start to build.

“Ketch get the fuck out of our bunker. And please for the love of God take your assassin goons with you.” You sigh and put your gun away going back to the kitchen to resume your task.

_Listen my my baby_   
_I’m flying high up in the sky_   
_(With the two wings you gave me back then)_   
_Now it’s so high up here_   
_I want you tuned into my eyes_   
_Yeah, you makin me a boy with luv_

You hear voices approach the kitchen and turn your back to the door._ Fucking Ketch. Why did it have to be him?_

You stir the pan before you, wishing you would disappear when you hear combat boots enter the kitchen.

“Oh I didn’t know there was anyone else in here with you gentlemen. Who might you be?” Your shoulders tense and you give the simmering tomatoes a final stir before replacing the lid on the pan and turning to face Ketch.

“I think you know me perfectly well Ketch. Take your goons and leave my bunker.” His poker face is good as you only see a flash of surprise in his eyes before the cold mask takes over.

“Oh, hello. How…...lovely to see you again.” He comes closer and you hold up a hand.

“That’s far enough fucker. Back up and leave me and my family the hell alone.”

_Oh my my my Oh my my my_   
_I’ve waited all my life_   
_I want to be with you through everything_   
_Oh my my my Oh my my my_   
_Looking for something right_   
_Okay, now, I kinda get it_

“Your family?” He glances behind him almost as if to say _Really?_

“These bumbling buffoons are your family?”

“Yes, these bumbling buffoons are my family. I love both of them dearly with all my heart.” You turn back to the stove stirring the pan and taking off the heat. You turn off the burner and set the pan on the counter preparing the other ingredients. “Unlike you I’ve seemed to move on. So get the fuck out my house and leave me the hell alone. I don’t need your sentimental unrequited feelings getting in the way of the good stuff I’ve got going on here.” You point a knife at him for emphasis and turn back to your cutting board.

“I would listen to the man Ketch. He’s cutting stuff, I wouldn’t mess around with him.” You finish prepping ingredients and finish making dinner. You set plates on the table and tell the boys that whenever they’re done dealing with Ketch they can dig in. You walk out of the kitchen pushing past everyone hovering in the doorway. You head for the library, your safe space. You sit in your favorite dark corner and lean your head against the wall your brain forcing you to reminisce.

_I want something stronger_   
_Than a moment, than a moment love_   
_I have waited longer_   
_For a boy with, a boy with luv_

_“Art are you in here?” You look around the apartment you share with Arthur Ketch and you don’t see him immediately which isn’t unusual. He works odd hours and will come home or leave at the crack of dawn or the middle of the night. You set your keys down on the counter and rummage through the cabinets looking for the last box of Cheez-Its when you hear movement from the living room. You quietly creep from the kitchen, peeking around the corner. “Arthur!” You sprint for him and kneel before him. He’s sprawled across the couch, blood stains covering his body, and a pool of blood is puddling underneath him soaking into the couch._

_“I’m fine love,” His cough is a wet one and it sounds awful. “It tis only a flesh wound.”_

_“Flesh wound my ass! We need to get you to a hospital!” He grabs your wrist with lightning speed that he definitely shouldn’t have. He’s lost so much blood but he acts like nothing has happened._

_“No hospital can help me. There is something that I’ve been keeping from you for….”His pause is a pregnant one. He seems to be trying to catch his breath. “For many months. I don’t actually work for the hospital. I’m an assassin.” You stand and step back from him. Your hands clenched at your sides, your nails digging into your palms._

_“I can’t believe you,” You’re in shock, retreating further and further into yourself. “Why? Why would you lie to me? I thought we were together forever Arthur, but it turns out this entire relationship has been a lie!” You go to the room you used to share with him and pack all of your stuff into a bag. It’s not like you had many personal belongings to begin with._ “Ba-” _Why did it have to end that way? I just- I don’t know. What the hell do I do now?_ “Babe-” _Sigh why me?_ “BABE!” You shake yourself out of it and look up to see Dean kneeling in front of you looking concerned.

_From the moment I met you, ya, my life was all you, ya_   
_You’re the star that turns ordinaries into extraordinaries, oh yeah_   
_One after another ay, ay, everything is special ay, ay_   
_The things you’re interested in, the way you walk or talk, and every little trivial habit of yours_

“I’m sorry. What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, something’s wrong. Something’s wrong with you honey. How do you know Ketch? What’s going on?” You sigh and tell him the story of yours and Ketch’s relationship and the downfall of it. His frown turns into a sour look that washes over his face. “You and Ketch were really in a relationship? Huh, and he lied to you for all that time? Man, what a dick.” He stands and reaches out to pull you up. You grab his hand and he pulls you into a hug. He squeezes you once, steps back, and intertwines your fingers with his.

“What now?”

“We show Ketch what we do to assholes who betray us.” His smile is one that slightly scares you. You both walk towards the group standing in front of the war room table. To your delight, Ketch’s face shows an emotion that can only be described as anger upon seeing you and Dean holding hands.

“So, Winchester it seems you’ve stolen what belongs to me.” The bitch face that appears on your face can only be described as epic.

“What the fuck dude. Do you think that he belongs to you? He can, damn well, do what he pleases. He does not belong to you. He is his own person and sure as hell doesn’t need someone like you in his life.” Your heart swells at Dean’s tirade._What did I do to deserve this man?_ Ketch scoffs and gestures to his goons.

“We will be back. You can count on that gentlemen. Not only for the bunker, but also for what belongs to me."

_(Hope world, ay)_   
_Everyone says that I used to be so little and now I became a hero (Oh no)_   
_I say that something like destiny was never my thing (Oh no)_   
_World peace (No way)_   
_A great order (No way)_   
_I just want to keep you safe_   
_(Boy with luv)_

You sit in one of the chairs at the war room table.

“You should go eat guys. Your food’s probably cold.”  
“We don’t give a damn about the food dude. We want to know what the hell to do about Ketch and you.” You shrug your shoulders in resignation.

“I couldn’t fix it. I don’t want to fix it. End of story. There’s nothing else to say.” As soon as you sit, you stand again. “I’m going to bed. Go eat your dinner.” You head for your room, planning to take your meds and clock out for the night. Drained, you open the door to your bedroom. You close it behind you and cross the room to the dresser. You dig around in Dean’s drawers for your favorite of his t-shirts and sweatpants. You undress and put them on relishing the warm, comforting scent of Dean. You take your meds, brush your teeth, and climb into bed slipping into dreamless oblivion.

Something wakes you. You feel lips brush your forehead and a hand rub your back. A dip in the mattress next to you signals that Dean is down for the night. His arms pull you close and you snuggle in relishing his warmth. You slip back off into sleep, Ketch the furthest thing from your mind. _Wake up_

You sit straight up in bed, your chest heaving, and your body shivering with a sheen of cold sweat. You search the room, looking for the source of the whisper and find nothing. Your movement ask woken Dean and he sits up gun in hand.

“What is it?” He whispers to you, throwing the covers off, and beginning to stand.

“It was nothing D. Just a bad dream. I’m sorry that I woke you.” His shoulders seem to sag in relief and he switches the safety on, putting the gun back under his pillow. He pulls the covers back over the two of you.

“Ok good. Was it about Ketch?” You shake your head in the negative and roll onto your side, staring at the red digits of your alarm clock._ 3:15 AM_ You lay there and stare at the alarm clock until it reads 4 AM and then you get out of bed. Dean asks you where you’re going and you just tell him you’re going for a little walk through the bunker. You grab your phone and headphones and walk out of the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind you.

_Listen my my baby_   
_I'm flying high in the sky_   
_(With the two wings you gave me back then)_   
_Now, it's so high up here_   
_I want you tuned in to my eyes_   
_Yeah you makin 'me a boy with luv_

You stand in the middle of the darkened library staring at the shelves around you. You decide it’s time to just let loose. You pull your phone out and put your headphones in. You play one of your favorite songs and begin to dance.

_Oh my my my oh my my my_   
_You got me high so fast_   
_I want to be with you for everything_   
_Oh my my my oh my my my_   
_You got me fly so fast_   
_Now, I kinda' get it_

_Love is nothing stronger (I want it)_   
_Than a boy with luv_   
_Love is nothing stronger_   
_Than a boy with luv_

_I'll tell you frankly_   
_Sometimes I was a little stuck up_   
_Elevated sky, expanded halls_   
_Sometimes I prayed let me run away_   
_But your pain is my pain_   
_When I realised that, I vowed to myself_   
_With the wings of Icarus you gave me_   
_Not towards the sun but towards you_   
_Let me fly_

_Oh my my my oh my my my_   
_I've waited all my life_   
_I want to be with you for everything_   
_Oh my my my oh my my my_   
_Looking for something right_   
_Now, I kinda' get it_

You freeze when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You stop pulling out your headphones and crouching in the semi-darkness. When you spot the familiar plaid layers and work boots you stand.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam stands there with his cup of coffee and bagel, looking at you funny.

“What the hell are _you_ doing Sam it’s 4 in the morning? And to answer your question I’m dancing because I can’t sleep and I’m having nightmares about Ketch ok.” Sam’s face changes but you can’t see the exact details of it in the darkness.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He sits down at one of the tables and turns on one of the lamps illuminating your dark circles and tired eyes. You sigh and sit down at the table, and begin to tell him what you had told Dean. He sits there sipping his coffee, nodding at appropriate times.  
“Well, sounds like the Ketch we know. A real douchebag.” Sam takes a ferocious bite from his bagel and chews for a while. “You should go back to bed. Dean will freak when he wakes up and you aren’t there. Seek comfort from Dean. He’ll give it to you. He loves you more than anything else in this world. Remember that.” Your heart swells and you nod in agreement. Even though you had told Dean where you were going, he was half asleep and definitely not conscious enough to remember. Sam’s comment rings in your head as you plod back to your room and gently open the door. You hear Dean’s little snores and you smile. _How could I be so in love? I didn’t think it would ever be possible._You slip back into bed with Dean and he pulls you into him. He continues to snore gently and you smile again. You snuggle in and breathe deeply. _This is it. This is what I’ve been searching for. This is what I couldn’t find with Ketch but I found with Dean. _Your eyes slide shut.

_I want something stronger (I want it)_   
_Than a moment, than a moment, luv_   
_Love is nothing stronger_   
_Than a boy with luv_


	14. Hushabye Baby

A shrill cry echoes through the house and Dean sits up in bed. He rubs his eyes and looks over to your side of the bed. You aren’t there. He scratches his head. He could’ve sworn that you’d gotten up to get the baby. He throws off the covers and pads towards the nursery. The baby continues to cry and Dean coos at her as he walks into the room.

“You’re ok. You’re ok. Are you hungry?” He picks her up, cuddling her close. He hushes her, rocking slightly. He heads for the kitchen to make a fresh bottle. He still hasn’t seen any sign of you which is odd and several alarm bells in his head start ringing. He turns lights on in the kitchen and begins to make a fresh bottle, juggling keeping the baby entertained and still keeping an ear out for you. He makes the bottle and heads out of the kitchen turning off the light with his elbow.

He settles into his and Claire’s favorite rocking chair in the nursery. He gives her her bottle, staring at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling that you insisted on putting on. He rocks gently as she suckles gently on her bottle, her eyes slowly slipping shut. He sets the empty bottle on the end table and stands slowly. He gently sets Claire back in her crib, tucking her favorite blanket around her. He makes sure the baby monitor is on and slips out, turning on the mobile before he leaves. He shuts the door softly and goes on the hunt for you. His bare feet on the hardwood are the only sound beside the ticking of the clock. He looks in the living room, where the curtains are blowing softly in the summer breeze.

“Babe? Are you in here?” Dean stands in the middle of the foyer, scratching his head._Maybe he couldn’t sleep and went for a walk._Something is still triggering his Spidey-Senses. He grabs the baby monitor out of your bedroom. He walks back to the living room and sits down on the couch He turns the volume on low on the tv and waits for you. He eventually falls asleep his arm pillowed under his head and a black and white western playing on the tv. The baby monitor goes off with Claire’s cries some unknown amount of hours later. Dean hears something else other than Clarie’s cries. _You screaming_He sprints for the nursery and finds the door wide open. When he crosses the nursery doorway Claire’s cries stop and she begins cooing. Dean tilts his head at this. Something is wrong here. He picks Claire up, noticing a drop of something dark on her forehead. She stares at the ceiling transfixed by something. He wipes it off, bringing it to his nose. The substance smells distinctly metallic. Her gaze is still glued to the ceiling so he looks up as well. His heart drops into his feet and gorge rises in his throat. There you are, eyes full of fear. Stuck to the ceiling, a large gash across your stomach drips blood into the crib.

“Dean,” Your voice is faint barely a whisper. “Take her and run.” Your body bursts into flames and Dean bolts from the nursery. Claire’s cries ring in his eyes as he bursts from the front door and watches his house burn down along with his only love.

“Dean! Dean honey wake up! It’s just a dream!” Dean wakes up in a cold sweat, reaching for the weapon underneath his pillow. He needs something, _anything_ to anchor him.To tell him that it was only a dream and that you are ok and so is the baby. You are standing on his side of the bed holding Claire a sickly worried look on your face. Dean sighs and lays back, his clothes sticking to him.

“It was just a dream,” He whispers to himself reassuringly. “It was just a dream.” You sit down in the bed, snuggling Claire close. “Can I-” He stops, a hard lump in his throat. “Can I hold her? Just-” You hand her over with a sympathetic look and your heart swells with love as you watch Dean cuddle the baby close. His eyes roam over her, the mental checklist in his head slowly being ticked off one by one. 

“You ok hon?” He looks up from the baby and his face tells all. He won’t ever be ok. He’ll always have that fear. It will always be there lurking over his shoulder. You lay your head on his shoulder and you both gaze at Claire. She gurgles oblivious and adorable.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I won’t make you.”


	15. Devilish Feelings

The steam is heavy and makes the air humid. The hot water runs over your head running down your face blurring your peripheral. The water is soothing on your aching muscles and fresh scratches from today’s hunt. You jump when you feel warm, rough hands traipsing over your body.

“Mmmmmm. Hi Dean.” His fingers wrap around your chin and he tilts your head back to look up at him. Deans face is covered in scratches from today’s hunt. He pulls you back against his chest, kissing you harshly. Your tongues intertwine and his absent hand wanders downward making good use of his fine motor skills. You moan into his mouth and when you break apart you gaze into his eyes. The candy apple orbs have morphed into a dark forest green, cloudy with lust. He makes use of your distraction and nibbles on your neck, leaving purple bites that are sure to last for weeks. Your pants are loud in the thunder of the shower head. Water is pouring down onto you both and it’s getting hard to maintain friction. You reach for the water controls but Dean grabs your wrist.

“I’m the one who controls things here. Understand?” He squeezes your wrist until the point of pain and you’re squirming.

_"Yes, sir."_ He smirks at you, letting go of your wrist. He turns the water off himself, reaching for the towel hanging just outside the shower. You take your few seconds of freedom to admire his body. He’s covered in white scars and fresh scratches. His body is sculpted and lucious. He catches you admiring his figure and smirks. He ushers you out of the shower and towels your body down. He takes his agonizing time, making sure to apply friction in all the right places to get you riled up. He gestures for you to get dressed and you pout, grudgingly pulling on your clothes. He pulls boxers and shorts on, making the process as painful as possible for you.

“I want to do something special tonight.” He pulls a shirt over his head, glancing over at you once he’s clothed.

“What kind of something special sir?” You still feel as though your body is on fire. Your fingertips and face are buzzing like there are a thousand bees under your skin. _ He’s testing me. I can feel it. We just got back from a long, exhausting hunt and he wants to test my stamina._ He steps closer to you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, along your shoulders, and onto your back. You’re almost purring at the soothing sensation on your muscles.

“I want to pamper you tonight.” You gawk at him, flabbergasted.

“Me? I don’t deserve to be pampered!” The arched eyebrow he sends your way shuts you up quickly. He leans down to whisper in your ear. The things he says he’s going to do to “pamper you” send shivers up your spine and heat flooding in your core. _It’s almost as if I got dressed for nothing._ He proceeds to nudge you towards the bed. You fall onto it when your knees hit it. He climbs on top of you and languorously begins to suck at your neck, causing you to arch and moan. He makes his way down your neck, kissing at the neckline of your shirt. You dig your nails into his back, the attention so pleasurable and torturous at the same time. He strips you of your shirt, kissing downwards. He pays special attention to your aching nipples giving each one teasing bites. His knee presses harder into your erection and you hiss. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

_" Hurt me, daddy."_ He stops his tender kisses and looks up at you, his eyes dark green with lust.

“It would be my pleasure.”


	16. Depictions

_Small gasps. Nails breaking flesh. Sweaty skin. Flash of teeth. Salty taste. Cold wall. Warm bed. Tangled sheets. Heavy breathing. Eyes wide and round. Sudden realization. Cold sweat. Scramble for clothes. Break free of the fog. Stumbling run. Run into. Babbling. Comforting. Confusion. Fog. Sit down. Leaf through. Find answer. Find papercut. Point out. Slide over. Warm body. Flashback. Scoot away. Rub face. Head down. Comforting hands. Kind words._

_Swish of clothes. Look up. Culprit blank faced. Abrupt stand. Snarl. Flying fists. Pulled back. Small gasps. Flash of teeth. Sweaty skin. Salty taste._

_Accusations. Pull at lapels. Straightened collar. Spin on heel. Trench coat swirls. Retreating shoulders. Tousled black hair. Casual swagger. Sad eyes. Apologies. Explanations. Forgiveness. Resentment. Resignation._

Castiel doesn’t look back as he strides from the bunker. He got what he wanted. He got you. Yes, you were mind controlled but he spited Dean. That’s all he ever wanted.


	17. I Need This From You

_What if? What if? It’s always a big list of what ifs._ Fingers snap in front of your face and you look up blinking out of your reverie.

“You with us?” Sam is standing in front of you with a worried look on his face. You blink a few more times and then nod, still partway in your reverie. Sam stands in front of you for a moment longer and then seems to give up. He clomps away from you sitting back down at one of the study tables. He continues what he was working on and you gnaw at your lip. You stand from your spot at the end of the table and head for your favorite hidey hole in the bunker. _The one place I can be alone. The boys haven’t found it yet._

You sit in the filing room up against a dusty shelf. Your legs are pulled to your chest and there are tears streaming down your face. _ I’ll never be able to tell them. I’m too much of a coward._ The door opens and you jump to your feet scrabbling over to the space behind the door. The light comes on and you hear someone’s boots as they walk through the shelves of files. There is a rustling of paper and then the boot steps are walking back towards the door. The light turns off and the door closes and you release the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

_That was so fucking close._You sink down right there, the tears returning in a flood. You hiccup and sob and cry until your phone lights up vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out and see Dean on the caller ID.

“Hello?” You sound awful. Your voice is scratchy and raw from the hours of on-and-off crying.

“What the hell happened to you?”Dean's voice is inquisitive and slightly concerned which brings a touch of warmth to your otherwise cold body.

“Nothing man just a frog in the throat. What’s up?”

“I brought dinner if you’re hungry. Sam and I are in the kitchen.”

“Ok sweet be there in a sec.” You hang up the phone and tap on the camera. You examine yourself in the front-facing camera and sigh. There’s going to be no hiding the bloodshot, red, and puffy eyes that are a telltale sign someone has been crying. You do your best to mop up your face with your sleeve and slip your phone back in your pocket. You stand from your position on the floor and open the door to the filing room.

The bright fluorescent lights of the hallway sting your eyes as you trudge towards the kitchen in a wobbly stumble. You make it to the kitchen and you don’t look up from your feet even as the boys try to make conversation with you. You sit down with your burger and begin to eat.

A hand smacks the table in front of you and you look up from your food. Your mouth is full French fry so you raise an eyebrow.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Dean!” Sam scolds him lightly, a flash of apology in his eyes when he glances at you. You swallow.

“What the hell are you on about? I’m just trying to eat my dinner jackass.”

“You’ve been acting like a jaded teenage girl who got stood up at prom. What’s going on with you?”You feel the dam inside begin to crack and pop leaks. You stare at him for a long moment and set your burger down on the plate.

“You wanna know what my problem is Dean? Huh? You really WANNA KNOW?! I'M NOT SOME JADED TEENAGE GIRL. THAT’S THE THING DEAN. I’M NOT A GIRL. I AM A GODDAMN MAN. I AM TRANSGENDER DEAN. AND YOU’RE TOO BUSY BEING A NARROW SIGHTED JACKASS TO REALIZE THAT I’M LITERALLY FALLING APART AT THE SEAMS.” Your voice is raw and you begin to sob at the end. Your body is heaving and your sobs are loud in the dead silence of the kitchen. 

A comforting arm wraps around your shoulders and you let yourself be pulled into Sam’s consoling embrace. He rubs your back and doesn’t say anything as your sobs slowly taper off into hiccups. You sniff and awkwardly pull yourself from Sam’s arms. You rub your eyes and don’t dare look the boys in the eyes.

“Have you been feeling like this the whole time?” Dean asks quietly. You nod, still looking at the floor. “Sam will you give us a minute?” Sam says nothing and the bench wobbles a little as he gets and up leaves the room. Dean sits down in Sam’s vacated spot and sighs. His fingers grab yours and the gesture makes you look up at him.

This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. His eyes are misty and sad. His jaw is tensing like it does when he’s trying not to cry.

“I’m-“ He stops looking, for all the world, like a young, lost boy. “I’m sorry that you’ve been going through this. All you had to do was say something. I know that me saying that makes nothing better because there’s always that fear. I know that fear. Not quite to your level but I do. Dad never accepted the fact that I was bisexual even up till the day he died.” This fact is news to you and it makes your heart ache. “My point is that I don’t want you to ever think you have to hide anything from us. We’ll always be here for you no matter what. Alright?”

“Thank you Dean. You’ve given me all I could’ve asked for.” You both stare at each other a moment longer before Dean clears his throat.

“There’s something else I’ve been keeping from you, and I think you have a right to know.” You gulp, fear tingling down your spine. “I’ve had-“ He gnaws at his lip for a moment before resuming. “I’ve had feelings for you for quite a while now and the fact that you identify as a man doesn’t change any of that. I’ll probably still love you even until the day I die.” Your eyes are wide and your heart sounds like a wild stallion galloping through the countryside. You throw your arms around him and he chuckles. He wraps you in one of the best hugs you’ve ever had.

“Cas you owe me 10 bucks.”

“I do not have any money Sam. How do you expect me to pay you for this?” Dean doesn’t let go instead his grip tightens.

“Guys this is a chick flick moment could you kindly fuck off.”


	18. One of A Kind

It was getting hot and the sweat clinging to your skin was an unbearable sheen. You throw the sheets off and pull your sticky, soaked shirt off throwing it on the floor. You sink to the floor, the cool hardwood feeling like heaven on your skin. You can feel it inside. The tempting urge to just let go. _No, it’s not happening. I’ve got to stay._ You lay on the floor, drifting in and out of a feverish sleep for what seems like years. The door to your room opens and you don’t even open your eyes.

“Dude? What the hell are you doing on the floor?” A shadow comes over your closed eyelids and you don’t say a word. A rough calloused hand feels your forehead. “He’s running a pretty good fever Sam.”

“I’ll see what we’ve got in the cabinets but I know we don’t have much.” Footsteps trail away and you are left in silence. You crack your eyes open just enough. You can feel your hold slipping. _ I have got to hold on. I am not going to do that to Dean._ But it’s futile and eventually you feel yourself receding. You sit up, looking around with glazed eyes. You sniffle and begin to cry. Dean looks confused and concerned.

“What’s wrong? Hello? Speak to me man.” You wrap your arms around his neck and cling on for dear life. He tenses up and doesn’t react immediately. He slowly wraps his arms around you. Sam’s footsteps return and stop in the doorway.

“What happened?”

“I have no clue. He just started crying and clinging on to me for dear life.” Sam simply nods and strides forward a bag in his hands. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you freaking out? You’re like the king of freaking out Sammy.” Sam kneels down in front of the pair of you and starts pulling things out of the bag. Dean pulls out the famous Winchester bitchface when Sam starts pulling out things other than medicine. He pulls out a pacifier, bottles, diapers, adult-sized baby clothes and other baby things.

“What the actual fuck Sam.”

“I knew this was going to happen eventually. I’m not nearly as oblivious and bull-headed as you Dean.” You have calmed down by this time and are softly snuffling against Dean’s neck. Sam removes you from Dean’s arms and you whine. Your bottom lip begins to tremble again and Sam stops the oncoming tantrum by pushing a pacifier into your mouth. You begin to suck gently and the tears stop. Sam sets you down on the floor where you shiver and whine from the fever. He methodically strips you of your sweat soaked underwear and methodically puts a diaper on you. He doesn’t even flinch or blink twice. He picks you up and cradles you to his chest picking up your soiled underwear and throwing them in the laundry basket.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean mutters, almost to himself. Sam gestures for Dean to help him and Dean stands from his position on the floor.  
“Here, take him.”Sam begins to transfer you over to Dean and you start to whine at the loss of contact. Dean looks startled but takes you anyways. You snuffle contentedly, nuzzling your face into his neck, and continuing to suck on your pacifier. Your fever is still running and your body feels achy, but the warmth of Dean’s arms seems to calm your emotions. “We need to get some meds in him. We had Tylenol so that should help him, but I think you’re just gonna have to stay with him.” Dean looks at Sam like a deer in headlights.

“Me? Why the hell am I staying with him?”

“He seems to like your touch the most and if you leave him he’s gonna scream like a banshee and cry until you come back to him. He’s delicate in this state Dean. It’s called involuntary age regression. It happens most often when someone is under a lot of pressure and very stressed. In this case he’s sick as a dog and can’t really help that he’s acting like this.” Sam runs a hand over his face, looking like he’s aged 10 years in 5 minutes. “Remember that one time we came back from a hunt and he was acting like a 3 year old on crack?” Dean nods, unconsciously comforting you when you whine. He rubs your back gently, bouncing on his feet slightly. “That was because of high stress levels and anxiety on his part. His body doesn’t always know how to handle the stress so it deages itself mentally.” Sam leaves a stack of diapers, wipes, and other supplies on your dresser. “Just be good to him Dean.” Sam leaves, shutting the door behind him.

“Well, guess I’m stuck with you now.” He sits down gingerly on the bed, making sure to hold you as still as he can. He kicks off his boots as quietly as he can. He knows he should try and get you to take some Tylenol to take the edge off the fever, but he can’t bear to wake you. His heart aches at the thought of you screaming and crying because of the pain and heat. He reclines slowly shifting you to lay beside him. You cry softly and snuggle up beside him burying your face in his side. He lays a hand on your head, petting you softly. He lays there staring up at the ceiling. _This isn’t too bad. He’s kinda cute and I kinda like taking care of him._You blink your eyes open and look up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Hey buddy,” He says in a soft voice. “I need to give you some medicine. Is that ok with you?’ You just blink at him. “Maybe I can crush it up and dissolve it in a bottle for you.” He slides off the bed doing his best not to disturb you. “I’ll do it like I did to Sammy when he was sick.” You begin to whine reaching your arms out for him and he sighs. He walks back over to the bed and picks you up. You make a noise of contentment and close your eyes again. He supports your diapered butt with a forearm and uses the other arm to grab a bottle off the dresser. He sticks the bottle in his pocket and grabs the Tylenol as well. He struggles to open the door. He sticks the Tylenol bottle in the other pants pocket and opens the door. He strides down the hallway towards the kitchen but stops before he even gets two steps from the door. _I should probably put some kind of clothes on him. Even if it’s just like a shirt or a pair of pants._Dean doesn’t backtrack to your room though he keeps on walking to his. He opens his door and heads straight for his dresser. He opens it up and digs through his shirt drawer. He pulls out a weathered AC/DC shirt and walks over to his bed. He sets you down on it and you look up at him confused. You start to whine and your eyes start to brim with tears. 

“Shh shh shh you’re ok buddy. Just let me put this on you.” He slips the shirt over your head and puts your arms through the sleeves. You stare in amazement down at the shirt and seem content with it. Dean laughs slightly and he picks you up again. He shuts his door behind him and continues his walk towards the kitchen. Sam is munching on something, standing at the counter, and looks up when Dean walks in.

“Enjoying yourself?” Dean smirks and sets the bottle and Tylenol on the counter.

“Yes, actually. He’s really snuggly and kinda cute.” Sam’s eyebrows raise so high they practically hit his hairline.

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Dean doesn’t respond and simply goes about making up a bottle. It’s harder to do one handed than he will admit but he manages anyway. He crushes up the Tylenol with the flat of his knife and pours it into the mixed up formula. He shakes it vigorously making sure the medicine dissolves. Sam watches Dean go about this with a degree of nostalgia. _ Dean told me he used to do the exact same thing when I was sick as a baby._ Dean sits down at the table, setting the bottle down, he shifts you so you’re sitting in his lap. You gaze hungrily at the bottle, your face flushed with fever. He picks it up and takes the pacifier out of your mouth. He pushes the nipple of the bottle between your lips. You suck hesitant at first but when the warm liquid hits your tongue, you begin to suck eagerly. Dean relaxes and steals Sam’s beer off the table taking a generous chug.

“Hey, jerk!” Dean finishes off the rest of Sam’s beer and clinks the bottle down on the table. You’re three-fourths of the way finished with your bottle so Dean just holds you and the bottle waiting for you to finish.

You finish the last drops of the bottle and look up Dean with pleading eyes. He laughs softly and shifts you to his shoulder, patting your back. After a couple minutes you burp and fall asleep almost immediately. Dean’s soft smile is full of adoration. Sam is staring at Dean this entire time like he’s grown six heads.

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with my brother?” Dean glares at him and puts a finger to his lips.

“He’s sleeping,” Deans says in a stage whisper. Dean sighs and begins to explain. “It was weird at first, but it’s kind of endearing ok? Once I got over the initial weirdness of it taking care of him isn’t too bad. It gives me something to do other than clean my guns.” He shrugs as if affirming everything he just said and stands slowly. “I’m gonna go lay him down. I’m probably gonna stay with him just in case.” Sam nods and goes back to his sandwich, glaring silently at his now empty beer. Dean walks gently back to your room, pausing at the door. _What have you gotten yourself into Dean Winchester?_ He opens the door and closes it softly behind him. He lays you on your bed and grabs a blanket from the foot of the bed covering you with it. He spots a stuffed animal on the floor and sets it next to you. The softness on the contact of your skin makes you grab for it and cuddle it close to your face. He sits down on the chair next to the bed and props his feet up on your nightstand. He reclines back, gazing at the rise and fall of your chest. His eyes slowly slip closed and he falls asleep to the sound of your breathing.

A cry wakes him and he shoots out of his chair, pulling the knife from his belt. He looks around the room looking for the threat but finds nothing. You wail, squirming around on the bed.

“Hey, buddy. You’re ok. You’re ok.” Dean picks you up and immediately notices the wet diaper. _Oh geez._ He lays you down on the floor and grabs the supplies to change you. He kneels down in front of you and hesitantly begins to go about the process. It’s a slow and painful change for both you and him. And when he’s finally done you both seem to sigh in relief. He throws the dirty diaper in the trashcan next to the night stand. He feels your forehead with the back of his hand and is relieved that your fever has gone down. He puts everything up and picks you up off the floor. He pats your back gently and sits down on the edge of the bed. The words that slip from his lips seem to be on instinct.

“Daddy’s precious boy.”


	19. Hail To The King

_Jesus Christ cycling to Mass on a Friday._Your shoes make the puddles beneath your feet ripple. You step around the bodies on the floor and walk towards the throne.

“Got a little crazy while I was gone didn’t you, Highness?” The lounging figure straightens at the sound of your voice.

“I don’t deal with idiots. And I don’t deal with disrespect.”The figure shrugs and stands examining themselves. They brush at a few blood spots on their clothes. “I just got this shirt.” They strip it off not caring that they have an audience. You hold a hand out and they toss it to you. You sling it over your shoulder and continue to sidestep around the bodies.

“Where’s Crowley?” The figure shrugs and snaps their fingers at a terrified looking attendant standing in the corner. The attendant shakily hands them a new shirt and they pull it on over their head.

“What’s new on the surface?” You shrug as they just did and begin to tell them of the shenanigans going on on the surface world. “Nothing much new then?” You shake your head and follow after them as they order the servants around, commanding that they clean up the mess they’ve made. You follow them into the ‘den’ and throw the shirt on your bed on the way past, vowing to get rid of it later. Totally not gonna keep it like I have the others. Definitely not. They wave a hand at you as they sit down in their favorite chair. You go behind the bar and pull a glass down from the shelf.

“One finger or two Majesty?”They hold up two fingers and you pour two fingers of Angel’s Envy. A smooth bourbon that’s become Highness’s recent favorite and a joke between the two of you for its apt name. You hand him the glass and sit down across from him. They stare at you over the glass as they take a sip.

“Something’s bothering you. Spit it out.” You shake your head vehemently.

“Nothing you need to worry about Majesty.” They raise an eyebrow at you.

“We’ve known each other since the beginning. I’ve told you numerous times to call me by my name when we’re alone.” You sigh. Your heart pounds in your chest and your palms begin to sweat.

“I know but it feels wrong.” You run a hand through your hair and open your mouth then close it again. You think of the right words to say, but your mind pulls a giant blank. “Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a while now, but I just couldn’t find the right words for.” As if your body is on autopilot you stand from your chair. You pluck the bourbon glass from their hand and set it on the table. They give you a look that says, _if you don’t explain yourself soon you’re going to end up like the bodies in the throne room._You take a deep breath and sit on his lap. You look him deep in the eyes and in the next breath your mouth is on his. His body freezes but as the sensory input catches up with his brain, his mouth covers yours. His mouth tastes like bourbon as he snakes his tongue into your mouth. You kiss until you run out of breath and you pull away, soft pants leaving your mouth. His eyes are black and heated. 

“Well you definitely had something to say didn’t you?” You say nothing, still reveling in the moment. “I want to hear my name coming from your lips.” You gulp and take in the sight before you. The king of hell is underneath you, you’ve just made out with said king, and now he’s asking for what seemed to be the impossible just moments ago.

_“Kiss me Dean.”_ And with a wicked smile, the king of hell obliges.


	20. What You'll Never Be

**This one shot is based on a dream I had. Enjoy!**

“Sir? Sir?” You snort awake, blinking your eyes and wondering _Where the hell am I?_ The person in front of you comes into focus and you remember. _Ah that’s right. I’m literally in hell._

“Sorry Crowley I dozed off there for a second. I haven’t been sleeping much lately. What were we talking about?” You rub your eyes and try to keep the tiredness from overtaking you. Crowley hands you a clipboard and asks you to give him just a moment. You read over the agenda for today and are startled when Crowley comes back with two large Starbucks cups in hand.

“You’re a saint.” You take the coffee from him and savor the aroma before taking a sip. A satisfied sigh leaves you and you raise your cup to Crowley. “Thanks. What’s first today?” You prop a leg up on the throne and assume a casual pose taking occasional sips of your coffee. 

The day passes by in slow agonizing fashion and you quickly run out of patience.

“No, that’s my final answer. No if ands or buts. If you try me one more time I’m going to send you to Purgatory.” Crowley shoos the demon away and you rub at your face. “Are they always this persistent and patience-trying?”

“More often than not yes. They get very annoying.” You sigh in disappointment when you pick up your cup and it’s empty. “We have one last appointment and then it’s time for the daily walk around.” You shrug and stretch your arms over your head, your shoulder cracking satisfyingly. You gesture for Crowley to let your last appointment in but the appointment decides to bust in themselves. Your fists clench and your heart rises into your throat when you catch sight of the dark hair, blue eyes, and tan trench coat.

“Hey Cas. What can we in hell do for you today?” Cas’s face goes through a morph of emotions. He goes from angry to surprised to relieved to confused in quick succession.

“You have been missing for 6 months. This is where you’ve been?” You blink at him for a moment and look over to Crowley.

“It’s been 6 months on the surface already?” He nods solemnly watching Cas with a careful side eye. You stand from the throne, your limbs stiff. “Alright give me a minute. I’ll pack a bag. I at least need some clothes and my toothbrush. Come on Crowley. I’ll brief you.” Crowley follows you into the back of the throne room where a single door stands. You open it and walk into the adjoining suite. You grab a bag from the closet and begin to throw things in. Crowley takes them right back out and folds them neatly putting everything back in the bag.

“Why are you going? I thought you liked it down here.” You sigh and grab some of your stuff from the bathroom shoving it in pockets and zipping them up.

“It’s not that I don’t like it down here C it’s that I have a deal with Lucifer. Six months down here with him, six months on the surface with the boys. It’s like the myth about Persephone, Hades, and Demeter. C can I confide in you?” Crowley raises an eyebrow and gestures for you to continue. “I think I’m in love…….with two different people…….. at the same time.” 

Crowley doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He continues to reorganize your bag as you sift through stuff you might need. You pull a couple of Lucifer’s shirts out of the closet and hand them to Crowley knowing that he’ll fold them neatly for you.

“I think that’s a very complicated situation that you’ll have to navigate carefully. Dean will definitely give you trouble and Lucifer,” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “His Majesty is complicated but patient and understanding, especially when it comes to you. I’ve never seen such a soft spot.” You finish packing your bag and pull your favorite jacket from its place on your desk chair. You pull it on, savoring the scent of Lucifer’s favorite cologne. You grab a baseball cap and put it on shutting the door to your bedroom. You walk towards Castiel who is looking nervous and impatient.

“Finally, let’s go.” He puts a hand on your shoulder and you have enough time to say, “Be sure to visit C! And keep Luci in line will ya!” You and Cas disappear from hell’s throne room.

You land inside the bunker and the sudden movement has you disoriented. You grip the railing to the stairs and wait for the dizziness to pass. You stand straight and look around for the boys. You don’t see them in the immediate area so you yell.

“OI THERE ANY WINHCESTERS IN HERE?! THERE BETTER BE BEER AT THIS HOMECOMING PARTY!” You hear loud running footsteps and the boys appear from the lower level. Dean’s face is so relieved you think that he might actually cry and Sam’s face is no different. You’re engulfed in a trademark Winchester bear hug and you hear your back crack.

“We thought you were dead. We held a hunters funeral and everything.” You push away from him and look at him with your best bitchface.

“What the hell did you burn?” Sam shrugs and shakes his head behind Dean’s shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re back.” He seems to lose all self-control in this moment and kisses you hard, pulling you back to him. Thoughts begin to creep into your mind and the memories of Lucifer’s body and mouth pressed against you make you push away and stumble backwards. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did I do something? Did I hurt you?” You press at your temples trying to make the memories go away but that heat begins to simmer in your gut. The scent from Lucifer’s jacket isn’t helping to tamp down on any memories. You can still feel his body heat like he’s standing there, his mouth on your neck, and his hands wandering further and further.

You say nothing as you sprint for the nearest bathroom. Dean yells after you but you ignore him as you slam the door behind you and lock it. You strip off Lucifer’s jacket and toss it onto the floor. You turn the tap on and splash your face with cold water. You stare at your reflection in the mirror for what seems like hours until there is a knock at the door.

“Hey man, you ok?” Sam’s voice is soft. You unlock the door and open the door to just a crack. You see the both the boys and gesture for Sam to come in shutting and locking the door in Dean’s face. You turn the bathtub on creating some background noise so Dean can’t listen in.

“I have a big problem Sam.” He shorts and sits down on the edge of the tub.

“Yeah clearly. What’s going on?” So you explain to him your split heart, your cushy and comfortable accommodations down in hell, your agreement with Lucifer, and how your heart is leaning more toward downstairs than it is being up here.

“I love him Sam and I love Lucifer at the same time. But my heart is telling me to run back to Lucifer with everything I’ve got and never come back. But there’s a part of me that still loves Dean and doesn’t want to hurt him.” You hold up your hands feeling helpless.

“Listen, I know I kind of have a bias here because Dean is my brother and Lucifer mentally tortured for months but, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, if Lucifer makes you the happiest that’s where you should be. Dean is gonna be pissed no doubt and throw an absolute hissy fit. He’s not gonna let you go dude. He’s gonna kick and scream the whole time.” You nod in understanding and turn the tub off.

“I’ll stay for a little bit to try and make up my mind. Just to ease him a bit.” You unlock and open the bathroom to a pissed off Dean.

“What the hell were you two talking about in there?” You wave him off and pick the jacket up off the floor. You pick up your abandoned bag and head for what was once your room in the bunker. You open the door and there is a stale dusty smell as you flip the light on. It’s only been 6 months but everything in your room is exactly as you left it. You throw your bag onto the bed and sit down next to it waiting for the onslaught from Dean.

“Come on Sam! He’s my boyfriend and he won’t even talk to me! Something is clearly wrong! He was missing for 6 months and now something’s wrong with him and I can’t fix it!” Their arguing gets quieter and you let out a sigh of relief. You quietly shut the door to your room and lock it. Kicking off your shoes, and laying down, you pull out your phone. You have a couple texts from both Crowley and Lucifer. So you read over those and reply as accordingly. You pull Lucifer’s jacket over you and drift into a much needed sleep.

“Hey, dude wake up.” Sam’s gentle but insistent shaking rouses you from your slumber and you peek out of cracked eyes at him.

“What?”

“Dean’s freaking out. I think you should probably go see him.” You sigh and sit up, following Sam out to the main foyer of the bunker where Dean is sitting, whiskey bottle in hand, and feet on the table. You walk towards his spot, trepidation in your head and worry in your heart. You run your hand through his hair, looking down at him with such worry. He leans his head against you, cradling the liquor bottle like a baby

“Come on Squirrel. What’s the matter?” Dean is heavily drunk and looks up at you with the saddest eyes.

“I feel like I’ve lost you twice.”Your heart breaks at Dean’s words and you gesture for Sam to leave you two. Dean’s mood suddenly turns angry. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?! Huh?” He gets up slamming the bottle on the table. The bottle rattles and sloshes whiskey all over.

“Is it because of someone in hell? Did you cheat on me?” The heat of shame flushes your cheeks and his voice rises. “I should have never even started this relationship. You’re not even a real man anyways!” The room goes so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“Say that again Dean Michael I dare you.” His face is beet red by this point and he looks like he’s ready to throw punches.

“You aren’t even a real man. There’s no XY in your blood. You’re just a girl parading as a man. Fucking cross dresser.” If anyone cared to listen they could hear your heart shatter into a thousand pieces and that’s when Dean launches himself at you. Fists are flying and Dean’s punches are landing so hard you’re seeing stars.

“DEAN GET OFF HIM!” Sam runs to your rescue, trying to pull Dean off and he eventually manages to. But not before Dean lands one that knocks you out.

_The world is quiet and dark as you sit on the throne. Reclined and relaxed it seems as though there are no cares in your world._ Dude. _Not a care in the world._ Wake up!

You wake to swollen eyes and a bruised body. You hiss as your head begins to pound. Sam tries to help you up but every move causes some kind of bruise to ache. The cry is from your lips as if in instinct.

_“Lucifer, help me.” _A sound of wings and Lucifer is kneeling next to you concern written all over his face. You reach up for him and he gently wraps his arms around your torso pulling your upper body to him. _It hurts so much. Everything hurts._ Loud words are exchanged between Lucifer and the Winchesters but your head aches too much to pay attention to them. You cling to Lucifer and with a sound of wings the both of you are gone.

“Lu please don’t. I don’t deserve it.” A rough, calloused hand sweeps the hair back from your forehead.

“But you do deserve it. Why wouldn’t you? No one especially not you deserves to be beat that way and not be healed.” You sigh knowing that there is going to be no end to this argument and finally you nod in resignation. He places two fingers to your forehead and all of your aches, pains, and bruises melt away. It’s a relief for sure but the relief is only on your body not your mind.

“Would you mind flitting back to the bunker to grab my bag? I took a lot of my stuff with me including my favorite of your jackets.” He smiles and snorts. He’s gone and back in an instant with your recovered stuff. You pick up your cell phone and see about 7 missed calls. 6 from Sam and 1 from Dean. You listen to the only voicemail in the box.

_Hey. Listen I know what I said was wrong and how I said it was wrong, but it’s been bothering me for a while. I could never get over that bump. Don’t bother calling back. Stay down there with him. And don’t come back._

A solitary tear slips down your cheek and you delete the message. From now on you’ve only got Crowley and Lucifer to count on.

_What are the odds?_


	21. Lust

**Hope you enjoy a little bit of Bottom!Dean ;)**

“Come on Dean! You’ve never been camping a day in your life! It’ll be fun!” Dean sits there, glaring at you. He shakes his head firmly and takes a gulp from his beer. Sam snorts.

“Come on Dean I think a camping trip would be fun. It’d be a good mini vacation.” You pout and your bottom lip begins to quiver. Your eyes go misty and Dean gulps. He seems to go through an internal battle and finally sighs hanging his head in resignation.

“Fine. We’ll go camping.” You cheer and clap your hands. The preparation begins immediately and by nightfall the bags are packed and all the materials are in order. You go to bed exhausted and exhilarated ready for tomorrow’s adventures.

“Dean get up I have coffee! Let’s go!” A grumble comes from the other side of the door and Dean opens it looking rumpled and annoyed. Your heart stops and your mouth waters as you glimpse the planes of his bare torso. You shake your head and offer him the steaming coffee cup. He raises an eyebrow and takes it. He shuts his door in your face and you hear shuffling inside. _At least he's up_You wander off down the hall and knock on Sam’s door. He doesn’t answer so you assume he’s already up and out.

“Hey, did you manage to get Dean out of bed?” Sam is walking down the hall towards you, bags in hand. You nod, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You’ve been trying to tamp down on this crush on Dean for months now, but it seems to be going nowhere fast.

A couple of hours later you and the boys are hiking out to your camping spot. You and Sam seem to be the only ones having any fun. Dean is just sullenly tromping along behind you. 

The group reaches your campsite a while later and you begin the process to set up camp. Dean is getting the fire started while you and Sam are setting up tents. Not much later you’re yawning. The sun has set and the stars are prominent in the night sky.

“Go to bed man. You yawn any louder and you’re gonna scare away all the wildlife in a 3 mile radius.” You flip Dean the bird and stumble over to your tent. You undress and slip into your sleeping bag. Your head hits your pillow and you’re out like a light.

_Dean’s soft groans echo in the night as you nibble on his neck. You have him pinned down and he’s writhing and wriggling trying to gain friction. He pants and arches his back as you hit a sensitive spot beneath his jaw._

_“Please, please, please. More, I need more,” You never thought that you would see the day Dean Winchester would beg but his face is red and his eyes are screwed shut. His mouth is open, moaning and he’s sweating like a whore in church. You finally decide to give him what he wants and-_

You shoot bolt upright in a sweat. Your body is buzzing and tingling like you just stuck your finger in an electric socket. You’re rock hard and aching. You groan and flop back onto the ground. _Why not enact your fantasy? Huh? Having Dean Winchester squirming underneath you begging. Sounds delicious. Do it. Just do it._

"Fuck,” You try and shake yourself out of it but that image seems to be stuck on replay in your head.

_“Please, please, please. More, I need more.”_ You hear something outside your tent and you freeze.

“You ok in there man? I heard you making a whole bunch of noise.” Dean’s voice makes your heart stop and your voice is shaky as you utter a reply.

“Yeah, I was dreaming I guess.” The words are right there on the edge of your lips._ Actually, I think I saw something in my tent. Could you check for me?_ You unzip your tent and peek out. You can just see the outline of Dean’s back as he heads back towards his tent. You sit back and ponder your next option._ I have got to get rid of this._ You glare down at your aching erection. The devil on your shoulder is whispering in your ear. _Go over there and show him who’s the alpha. Make him beg. Make him beg until he’s squirming and panting. Go. Go do this one thing for yourself._ You gnaw at your lip. _Fuck it._

You pull a pair of sweatpants on and slip from your tent, the chilly autumn air leaving goosebumps across your skin. You skirt around the fire pit and head for Dean’s tent. You sneak glances at Sam’s tent making sure that you’re not seen. You reach for the zipper of Dean’s tent but freeze when you hear him shift and mumble something. You slowly and painstakingly unzip the tent and slowly move the flap aside.

“Dean?” You whisper at a barely audible level but Dean shoots up, pointing his pistol at your face. “Chill dude it’s me.” He lowers the pistol and sighs.

“What is it? Something wrong?” You bite your lip in trepidation and realize that you’ve made a mistake.

“It’s- it’s nothing. I’ll let you go back to sleep.” He raises an eyebrow and stops you.

“Get in here. What the hell’s going on?” You take his offer and climb into the small space. You feel his heat and it makes your body ache.

“Listen, I know that this really isn’t the time or place to be talking about this but I really can’t keep my silence any longer.” Dean cocks his head and waits for you to continue. But you can’t you’re entranced by his delectable lips. You find yourself leaning in and Dean seems to sense the change in the air. He licks his lips and that’s the final straw. Your self-control breaks and you press your mouth to his wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck. He groans and gives in, letting you take control. You push him down onto his back and you straddle him, coming up for air.

You’re both breathing heavily and Dean shifts.

“I won’t go any further without-“

“Please. More, I need more.” You grin devilishly and strip him of his shirt. You run your hands down the planes of his torso. The look on Dean’s face is pure bliss and you lean down to kiss and bite on his neck. You hit that same spot from your dream and Dean nearly screams arching his back so high he’s nearly in half. You lift your head from your work and put a finger to your lips. 

“”Don’t make me gag you. We wouldn’t want Sammy to hear now would we?” Dean shakes his head and clamps his lips tight. You continue to work your magic on him, making him mewl, shake, and cry like a virgin during his first time.

“I have lube,” This whisper from Dean makes you stop. You reach over for his bag and rifle through the pockets eventually finding it. Your grin spreads from ear to ear and you toss his bag away. You strip him of his remaining clothing and salivate at the feast spread before you. You take the tube and lube up 3 fingers. You take it slowly, teasing Dean. Your pointer finger traces the rim of his puckered hole and he tries to grind on it. You tsk at him and push one finger gently in. Dean’s small cry fuels you and you gently insert another finger and begin to stretch him out.

His legs are shaking and his cries are soft and frequent. You insert the last finger and Dean wiggles down trying to fill himself but you put a hand on him preventing him from moving any further. You remove your fingers and grab the lube again. You put a generous amount in your palm and begin to lube yourself up. The anticipation in the air is heavy when you sink into him. You both groan. You take it slowly, pushing in at a snail’s pace. Dean is clawing at the folds of his sleeping bag and his face is twisted up into a grimace.

“I know Dean. I know baby, I’m sorry. I’ll make it better.” You kiss him gently, taking his mind away from the pain and gripping him in your hand. Stroking him gently, you kiss him harder and he responds with enthusiasm. Your hips stop when you’ve sunk all the way in. You let go of him and pull away.

“I’ve gotta move baby. I’ll be gentle.” The walls of Dean’s ass are pressing on you so deliciously that you shiver. He nods and his breath comes out in a shudder. You begin a gentle rhythm and Dean’s face screws up into a grimace. His expression slowly melts into one of pleasure and he rocks his hips in time to your thrusts. You pick up the pace and Dean scrabbles for purchase, looking for something, anything, to hold onto. You both are panting and groaning. You know that Dean is going to quickly come undone by the shaking of his body. You’re pounding into him by this point and he seems to be practically vibrating with pleasure.

“Ah, Ah, Ah,” Dean bites down on his lip and you see the scream that wants to burst free as you both climax with a shudder.

“Good boy Dean. Such a good boy.” His smile is sleepy and satisfied as you pull out leaking fluids everywhere. You fall asleep together tacky with sweat, cum, and satisfaction.


	22. Fissure

“I can’t believe that’s him.” Dean’s voice is loud in the silence of the Impala. He stares out the windshield at you, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Yeah, he looks totally different. He looks relaxed and-” Sam pauses as you turn around, throwing something out into the yard. “Normal.” You go back to the flowerbed you’re working in, seemingly ignoring the 3 men in the Impala parked across the street.

“I’m not sure how it will affect him. I want you to remember that.” Cas says, his face looking strained and somewhat concerned. The boys don’t say anything just continuing to stare out the windshield. They had been looking for you for some time. Cas had said that there was some sort of divine intervention preventing him from finding you. This made the 3 suspicious. One of the angels was playing some sort of mind game and it had everyone on edge.

You stand from the flowerbed, brushing the dirt off of your hands and wiping your forehead. You turn towards the backyard making the trek towards the shed. You suddenly jump, your hands flying to your mouth which makes Dean grab for the door handle. Sam puts a hand on him, keeping him from flying out of the Impala pistol in hand.

“You scared me Lu!” A tall figure steps out and the boys’ jaws drop. Lucifer smiles and wraps you in a hug. Whatever he says cannot be heard from the Impala but it’s obvious whatever he says eases your tension because your shoulders sink back down and you squeeze him tight.

“Well, we’ve found our divine intervention. Should've known Lucifer would be meddling in this somehow.” Dean’s voice is tight as he speaks through clenched teeth. He opens the door to the Impala and gets out before his companions can stop him. He reaches to his waistband making sure that his pistol is still secured there before heading for the pair.

“Dean!” Sam hisses at him, getting out of the Impala himself praying that his brother isn’t going to make a scene. But Sam knows inevitably he will because if anyone had a weak spot for you it was Dean.

“Lucifer!” Dean’s shout startles you and you grab onto Lucifer’s arm, his sleeve clenched in your fist. “I should’ve known it was you! You asswipe. I’m gonna send you back to the Cage the hard way.” He reaches for the small of his back, his hand on the grip of his pistol when Lucifer holds up a hand.

“Dean, listen to me. I know you’re angry but I had my reasons.” Dean gives him the trademark Winchester bitchface and stops. You can almost hear him say, _And what reasons would those be? You have about 2.2 seconds to explain before I send your ass back to hell._ “I’m in love, Dean. You know what that’s like. It’s like having your world opened up to possibilities that you didn’t even know were there. It’s like having your eyes opened for the very first time. It’s a wonderful thing and I knew that I needed to have it. But there was only one way.”

Dean’s breath hitches and he understands. Lucifer was in love with you and figured that since you were a hunter and also with Dean there was only one way to get what he wanted. You look between the two your eyebrows furrowed in deep thought and then your eyes clear and it’s like a bolt of lightning hits you.

“You look familiar. Like really familiar. Do I know you from somewhere? Clearly Lu knows you and your name sounds like something I’ve heard before.” You bite your lip and the lines in your forehead deepen as you think about it more. Lucifer sighs like a dead man resigned to his fate.

“You know what Dean. I’ll undo it. I’ll do this one thing for you because I know what’s like to agonize over the one you love. You’ll want to prepare yourself. Maybe be ready to catch him. This isn’t going to go well.” Lucifer spins you toward him and the sorrow in his eyes is overwhelming.

“What’s wrong Lu? What’s going on? What are you going to do?” Lucifer takes two fingers and touches your forehead. Your eyes roll back into your head and your body begins to shake. Dean rushes forward to catch you as you fall, your body flailing and seizing. Your nose begins to bleed and Dean looks distraught. The other two have caught up by now and are standing behind Dean, taking turns looking down at you and glaring at Lucifer. 

Your body stops shaking and you lie still. You begin to stir and your eyes open slowly, hazy with confusion. You try to speak but nothing comes out. Your eyes slide back closed and you’re out.

“It will take a long time for him to recover. It won’t be easy, but I did owe you that much. None of my siblings would have been able or willing to undo it for you.” Lucifer’s voice is dour and melancholic. He disappears in a sound of wings and no one takes notice of his sudden departure. Dean cradles you to him standing slowly. He walks carefully back towards the Impala, and when Cas opens the backseat door he lays you gingerly down on the seat. 

Sam claps Dean on the back once he’s set you down and smiles.

“We got him back man! We did it!” Dean’s green eyes are dark with emotion as he stands there staring at your still body.

“We got his body back but we don’t know if we got his mind.” And with that Dean shuts the car door, walking around to his side and climbing into the driver’s seat. They sit there in tangible silence for what seems like hours until Dean turns the key to the Impala and suddenly there is noise in the world once again.

“We’re gonna fix this baby. One way or another.” Dean whispers to himself as much as he does to you and puts the car in gear. Driving off, they leave your life behind taking you back to your old one. What’s left of it anyways.


	23. What Can I Get For Ya?

“What can I get ya?” You throw the towel over your shoulder and stand patiently. The man in front of you looks like he’s aged 30 years in the last 12 hours.

“Beer and a finger of whiskey,” You nod solemnly. A tale as old as time, this one. You see guys like this daily, trying to drown their sorrows in cheap beer and cold whiskey. You slide the beer to him and set the finger of whiskey down. He doesn’t say anything to you. Doesn’t even acknowledge or thank you, just takes a large gulp from his beer and rubs at his tired face. You mentally shrug and go back to your regular duties. You fill up the other regulars sitting at the bar and make sure everything is wiped down. The sound of the door opening makes you look up. The man is so tall he has to duck a little to fit through the doorway. You greet the man with a smile as he sits down next to your surly newcomer. He raises a hand and asks for a beer. You pop the top off a cold one and slide it to him.

“What are you doing here Dean?” The tall man asks, taking a sip from his beer. The apparently named Dean says nothing and nurses his whiskey wincing slightly at the harsh burn. The tall man sighs and continues to sip at his beer. Eventually, they’re both just staring at their empty bottles. Not a word has come out their mouths in an hour or more.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” You say leaning on the counter in front of them. You’re exhausted from a long day of serving patrons and these two aren’t helping your declining mood. The silence is threatening to box your head in when you sigh in resignation. “Listen you two, I don’t know what kind of petty squabble you guys are duking out, but my job is hard enough without two grown men acting like sulky pissed off teenage drama queens. So if you’re not gonna order anything else you can pay your tab and get the hell out of my bar. Comprende?” Both men are looking at you now with dour expressions. The tall man sighs and pulls out his wallet. He throws down a 20 on the bar and gives you an apologetic look. He pulls Dean up by the collar of his shirt and drags him along behind him.

You sigh again as the door shuts behind them, leaving you alone in the empty bar. You clean up, wash everything and shut off the lights. Your keys jangle in your hand as you lock the establishment door. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and you force yourself to take a deep breath. You can feel something watching you from the shadows, but that isn’t unusual for you. Supernatural beings have always been interested in you, ever since childhood.

“Listen, I don’t know what you are and I don’t much care. I just wanna go home and go to bed. Do we understand each other?” There’s a shuffling of footsteps behind you and you huff dropping your bag to the pavement. You fish the silver knife out of your pocket and flick it open. You turn towards your assailant and see that it’s the guy from earlier, the tall one.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I almost knifed you!” You flip your blade closed and pocket it, picking your bag up off the pavement.

“Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier. I’m Sam and the surly one is my brother Dean. I noticed that you carry yourself with a hunter’s grace and I know for a fact that the pocket knife you’ve got is silver. We could use someone like you on a case we’re working here in town.” You cock your head at him, taking in the details.

“Are you working on that body they found in the river or the dismemberment over on 3rd Street?” Dean speaks up for the first time.

“Dismemberment. We think it was a werewolf. Heart was missing.” You nod solemnly. Sounds like a werewolf alright. Your shoulders sink in resignation and you nod.

“I’ll help you out, but I’m going home for a shower and some sleep. I’ve gotta open this place up in the morning.” The brothers agree to that and you part ways, phone numbers exchanged. You arrive home and practically throw yourself into your bed. You know you should shower but you slip off to sleep none the wiser.

The harsh ear splitting ring of your cell phone makes you jolt from sleep. There’s a puddle of drool underneath your face and your clothes are rumpled. You growl in frustration and scavenge around for your phone. You eventually find it, and it’s one of the brothers, Dean to be exact.

“This better be good Dean. I was sound asleep.” The derisive snort you hear only fuels the embers of your temper.

“Sorry to wake you sleeping beauty, but we’ve got a lead. Feel like coming along?” You rub at your eyes and glance at the alarm clock. It’s just past 8 AM.

“I’ve gotta open the bar in 2 hours so you better make this quick.” Dean laughs, which makes your heart do a flip. It’s a golden and rich sound that sends tiny shivers down your spine. You hang up on him and lay back down. The softness of your blankets pulling you back in, but you shake yourself awake. You drag yourself out of bed and into the shower. Your brain decides to make a mini movie out of the sound of Dean’s laugh and it’s torturous. You get out, dry off, and get dressed. Your go bag is sitting in the coat closet and when you pull it out a cloud of dust explodes from the bag. You sneeze violently and the dust cloud floats away leaving you in a sneezing fit. Your sinuses decide to settle and you head out the door bag in hand.

On instinct you reach into your jacket pocket feeling for your pocket knife.

“Don’t stab me this time,” Sam’s voice is cheerful and you roll your eyes. You tromp down your front steps towards the sleek black car and you whistle in appreciation. Dean leans down, peering out the passenger window at you.

“You like her? This is my Baby. 1967-”

“Chevrolet Impala, hard top with bench seats, automatic transmission.” You finish for him breathlessly gazing in pure lust at the piece of machinery. Dean gives Sam a look and turns back towards you.

“Well, get your ass in. We got a werewolf to catch!”

Many hours later you’re bruised, scratched, and bleeding from several spots. You mumble something but you can’t hold your head up from the blood loss. The boys manage to make it past the locks on your door and Dean sets you down gently on the couch.

“Find the bathroom Sammy. Grab whatever we need out of there.” He turns back to you and grimaces at the sight of your bloody face. Your eyes start to slip closed and he gently smacks your face. “Come on man you gotta stay awake. We’ve gotta-” His eyes slip out of focus for a second and then he’s up. He shouts for Sam and when Sam responds he darts for the other side of the house.

“Dean, you’re a genius! Now, how in the hell are we gonna manage to do that?” Dean’s expression falls and it’s getting harder to keep your eyes open. Your vision swims and you painfully sit up.

“Just stitch me up guys. This isn’t anything new for me.” Sam’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“You’ve lost a shit ton of blood.” Your smile is a weary and bloody one.

“Stitch me up and stop complaining.” They do as you ask. Every step of the way is so painful you have to bite down on something to stifle your screams. You try to focus on something and you find your mind latching onto the roughness of Dean’s hands and the calluses of them scraping your skin. The pain seems to diminish as you lock onto those tiny details and you almost cry in relief when Sam hands you a flask and tells you he’s done. You take 3 huge gulps out of the flask before Dean is yanking it out of your hand.

“Easy on the liquor. Save some for the rest of us,” His easy grin makes your tense muscles relax slightly and you give him a dopey grin of your own. You scrunch your eyes shut and stand, hissing as the stitches pull.

“Hungry?” You limp into the kitchen, the boys following behind you like lost puppies. You gingerly seat yourself at the kitchen island and gesture to them. “Have at it.” The pure childlike glee on Dean’s face sets your heart aflutter and a small smile appears on your face.

_I could get used to this._ You think as you watch the brothers throw together anything they can find.


	24. Drowning In The Suburbs

"I'm home!" You set your bag down by the door and slip off your shoes. You go looking around the house wondering where your parents are. You find them in the living room, staring at a dark tv. You hover in the entryway for a moment before taking a hesitant step in. "Mom? Dad?" They turn to look at you and your mom's eyes are brimming with tears. Your dad's face is hollow and his eyes are blank as he gets up from his spot on the couch.

"Follow me, kiddo." Your skin is cold and your blood is icy with anxiety as you follow him into the adjacent kitchen. "Your mom and I have always done what we thought was best for you. We thought we were raising a productive member of society." Your heart seems to stop as your brain races through all the possibilities of what could happen next. You nod, sitting at the kitchen island. Your legs are as shaky as a newborn giraffe’s and your heart is racing like you've consumed a 6 pack of Red Bulls. "We found your notes." You blink stupidly at him for a moment as your mother joins the two of you.

"Oh fuck," You whisper. Your mother's mouth is a grim and thin white line as she pours herself a large glass of wine and downs it in one go.

"We want you out. Pack your things and go," Your mother's tone lets you know that there's no room for argument so you stand shakily from your bar stool. You walk towards your room processing who you are, what you've done, and where you're going to go. You ransack your dresser throwing everything into the largest duffel bag you own. Grabbing several photos and keepsakes you slip the strap over your shoulder and take one last glance around what was once your room before closing the door. Your parents watch you silently as you grab your school bag from the floor, slip on your shoes, and open the door shutting it as quietly as possible behind you.

Reality finally sets in when the sky opens and rain starts to pour. Your shoulders shake with sobs as you sit on the street corner surrounded by dark houses, your only worldly possessions, and pouring rain. In a rare moment of clarity you get an idea that puts some hope into you. You pick up your bags and trudge towards the only other home you've ever known.

You knock on the door and pray that someone is home. The door swings open and you look into Mary Winchester's concerned face.

"Honey, what are you doing here? It's pouring rain! Did you walk? What are you doing with those bags?" You don't say anything to her, dripping all over her front porch, waiting for her to put the pieces together. Horror dawns on her face and is quickly overtaken by anger. "Come in! Come in! You're going to catch a chill! John grab some towels! We have a soaking wet guest." The tears come rushing back and you're overtaken by wracking sobs that make your being convulse. "Set your bags down sweetie. Take your shoes and socks off. Let's get these wet clothes off of you."

One word manages to make it past the lump in your throat.

"Dean?" Mary's smile is sad as she nods and tells her husband to go get the eldest Winchester. Dresser drawers can be heard and then loud smacking footsteps. Dean slides into the kitchen, clothes and towels in hand a look of murder on his face. He sets the clothes down on the kitchen counter and begins to dry you off with the towels. You can't seem to stop crying and Dean murmurs to you. He holds the towel up to act as a privacy shield as you peel your wet clothes off, taking the dry ones Dean offers you.

"They found out didn't they?" You nod and your bottom lip quivers. Dean shushes you and wraps a dry towel around your shoulders. "Come here baby. I've got you now. They can't hurt you here. I won't let them." You let Dean hold you as your shoulders shudder and your sobs echo in the quiet house. Mary and John whisper among themselves for a while and then they say something quietly to Dean who nods and ushers you into the living room. He replaces the towel with a blanket and crouches in front of the fireplace, turning on the gas and ushering in a warm glow that makes shadows dance on the walls. He sits down next to you and you curl into him wanting to fall into the deepest pit in Tartarus.

"Do you guys need anything?" Sammy, all limbs and torso, stands awkwardly in the doorway. Dean shakes his head and Sammy nods ducking away back to his room.

"D?" You raise your head to look him in the eyes. "Do you still love me? Even though I clearly wasn't good enough for my parents." Dean narrows his eyes and scoffs.

"Of course I still love you, dingus. Forever and always. Your parents just didn't know what they had until it was gone. Forget about them baby. I'm sure mom and dad will let you crash here. Even if they don't you can stay in my bed with me. You'll always have a place there." Your heart swells with gratitude and you snuggle into him, your eyes drifting closed in the warmth of him, the fire, and the blankets. You slip into sleep wishing that this was just a horrible nightmare you were going to wake up from.


	25. Ghost In The Headlights

_You’ve reached my voicemail. You either know who I am or are hopelessly confused. Leave your name and number at the tone.** BEEP**_

“Hey sweetheart, just wanted to let you know that we’re on our way back from the hunt. It turns out it was a ghoul. Nothing unusual. Love you bye.” Dean hangs up his phone and tries to avoid Sam’s knowing grin.

“It hurts you inside to be all chick flick moment in front of me doesn’t it?” Dean says nothing, giving Sam a dirty side eye and flicking his eyes back to the road. Both the brothers eyes go wide and Dean slams both feet on the brake pedal. The Impala screeches to an abrupt halt and both brothers leap out of the vehicle. Their forms cast dark shadows in the headlights as they stare at the apparition in the road. 

The apparition's head tilts to the side and it seems to stride closer to the brothers. Dean's hand slides to his waistband, but Sam gestures for him to stand down and points at the approaching figure.

You give Dean a broad smile and your eyes crinkle at the corners with delight.

"Hey handsome! Why are you looking at me like that?"

Dean's face drains of blood and he swallows. He runs a hand through his hair, his face a mask of despair.

"You're a ghost." The words leave him in a whisper and Sam gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder. You give him your best bitchface and look at him like he's just disavowed pie.

"The hell are you on about D? I'm no ghost! I'm me!" You look down at your body and the brothers can tell when it hits you that you're dead. You sink to your knees and stare at your transparent hands in horror. Dean takes a hesitant step forward and sinks down next to you. He reaches out, but hesitates. His hand sweeps through your form and a chill spreads across his skin. "I remember only one thing. All I can see is the sick smile on Cain's face as he twisted the blade in my heart."

"He'll pay. That's a promise. We'll give you a hunter's funeral. Let you rest. And then we'll kill that son of a bitch."


	26. White Jackets

Maniacal laughter bounces off the walls around you. The empty rooms echoing with the sounds of it. The laughter is coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. The source is you. You're laughing like a maniac, shrugging out of your coat and dropping it onto the dusty floor. The cloud it kicks up obscures you when the brothers burst in. All they can see is your outline and your laughter cuts off. You stare at them through the cloud, tilting your head in curiosity.

"Someone's come to play! I love to play!" You giggle and Sam's face turns up in disgust. Dean nods and they separate surrounding you on two sides. The dust cloud settles and you stand there. You look at the brother in front of you and tilt your head from side to side, sizing him up. "I think this one will go well in the collection. Maybe I'll keep him to play with. He's awfully handsome." Your body spasms and you drop to your knees. You squeeze your eyes shut and your breathing becomes painful. Your head jerks from side to side, your body clenched so tight.

Your breath leaves you in a gasp and your eyes fly open. The bright, painfully white walls of solitary come back to you and you sink to the ground in disappointment. "What do you think Dean? That should have worked. The brain is a powerful thing after all." Dean shakes his head from his position against the wall.

"You knew that was never gonna work. Magic ain't a thing. It's all a bunch of fairy tales and hocus pocus." You nod sagely and straighten up as you hear the lock to the door working. You stand, the concrete's cold imprint leaving tingles across your skin.

" 'Gainst the wall Winchester. You know the routine." You face the solid wall, placing your hands against it and keeping your head down. You hear Dean's boots crossing the room towards you and you can feel him stand next to you, keeping watch. The nurse takes your arms and places them in the jacket. You sigh inwardly.

"I'm not crazy," You whisper your voice full of conviction. As the nurse tightens the straps and gives you your shoes, Dean steps into view from outside your room. The nurse's mouth tightens into a thin white line and he guides you out of your room and down the fluorescently lit corridor. Dean's boots follow close behind. He always watches over you.

"You have a visitor," This is your favorite out of all the nurses. He's always cheerful and never dour even when you're in the foulest of moods. A familiar figure sits down in front of you and you frown.

"You're not him. You're an imposter." You state this through clenched teeth and with so much conviction it causes the person across from you to wince. Your visitor sighs and gets up, leaving the chair only for a different body to take their place. A broad grin splits your face. " Hi Cas! How's it going?" The angel's smile is sad and his eyes are even sadder.

"Things are alright. We were hoping to be able to take you home today, but it appears we cannot." Your face falls and you glance over your shoulder at Dean who nods sourly.

"Well, shit. Who was that other guy you brought with you. That wasn't Dean. Must be a shapeshifter or something." Castiel's face is sad and his sigh heavy. He says something quietly to the nurse who nods and turns back to you.

"Come on Winchester. Back to your room." Panic begins to race through your veins. 

"But I thought I was gonna go home today! Cas you said I was gonna go home! CAS PLEASE! DON'T LET THEM TAKE ME!" You struggle and fight lashing out with everything that you have. They jab you with a sedative and the world begins to go fuzzy. You manage to glimpse the imposter's face before everything fades away. And as they carry you away Cas and Sam console Dean who's struggling to keep it together. He twists the wedding ring on his finger staring at the linoleum.

"We're gonna fix him. No matter what it takes." The duo nod in agreement and Dean takes off an angry purpose in his step. "It's time for payback and I know just who to blame."


	27. In My Shoes

Your pulse spikes in time to the beat of the music and your anger rises with each lyric. You run a frustrated hand through your hair and squeeze your eyes shut. A hand touches your shoulder and you snap. You grab hold of their wrist wrenching their arm painfully to the side and pin them to the floor. The person groans in pain as you yank at their arm, almost pulling the shoulder out of socket. The music continues to play, uninterrupted, in your ears and you pull your earbuds out letting their arm fall to the floor.

"What the hell was that for? I was just trying to get your attention. You're grouchier than usual today." You stare with bitter contempt at the person on the floor as they climb to their feet. The look on your face gives them the answer they weren't looking for and they begin to get angry with you. "You're being a real dick today. Who the fuck pissed in your cereal this morning?" The cascade of anger that had abated begins to build until you blow. You launch yourself at them, feral. You get a few good ones in before hands grab you by the arms and pull you away. You struggle and curse, snarling at the prone figure.

Dean Winchester climbs to his feet for the second time in as many minutes, and you can see the steam coming out of him. His face is red and his breathing is heavy as he steps up to you. He grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

" You either get whatever stick is in your ass out or you're headed for a one way trip to the dungeon. Understand?" A defiant grin forms and your lip splits back open, dribbling blood onto your chin.

"Shove it up your pretty boy ass Winchester. I ain't in the mood to deal with your delicate constitution." Dean sighs and waves his hand at your captors. You don't struggle as the angel and the younger Winchester drag you to the dungeon. They push you in and shut the heavy metal door, the resounding clang of the deadbolt signaling your temporary fate.

After pacing around the dungeon you decide to sit in the lone chair. A song whispers across your mind and the words come to your lips.

_Tell me what would you do put in my position?_  
_Waking up confused and with an new addiction_  
_I say I'm addicted to this life I chose  
_ _She thinks I'm addicted to that powder though_

Time becomes a blur and when the sound of the lock releasing echoes through the room, you start.The hem of a trenchcoat appears and you roll your eyes.

"Cas, I know you're here to play mediator. Don't bother." The trenchcoat disappears and is replaced by henley. You sigh dramatically. Dean is there, chair in hand. He plonks it down 6 feet from you and sits down. He crosses his arms and stares at you. You raise your eyebrows and glance to either side of you. "You gonna wait me out or what cause I'm not playing your games asshat." Dean's sigh is heavy and full of frustration.

"What's your problem?" You take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, trying to control the irrational anger that's flowing like burning magma in your veins.

"What's my problem? Don't you have eyeballs? Use your forebrain instead of your lizard brain a little more often and maybe you'd actually notice what's happening in front of you. I'm having mood swings like crazy that I can't fucking control and I just feel like ripping you to pieces. My blood is burning and my rationale is gone. It flew out the window a long time ago and I can't hold onto anything other than what I've got which is a whole bunch of fucking nothing. I want to scream and throw things and cry and scream some more. I can't control myself Dean. I'm a constantly exploding volcano and no one can control me."

"I know exactly how you feel. Remember me with the Mark of Cain? I wanted to kill and kill and kill. I wanted to bathe in blood and rip someone's throat out with my teeth. The power was intoxicating and I know this isn't the same thing but I can help you." Dean gestures for you to stand up. 

"No chick flick moments," You whisper underneath your breath as you step into him and circle your arms around him. He's stiff and robot-like as he awkwardly wraps his arms around you. His body relaxes after what feels like hours and his lips ghost over the top of your head. A small smile flickers across your face and you close your eyes.


	28. Slow Burn

The bell rings right as you step foot in the classroom and you almost groan out loud. The teacher doesn't even look up at you as she fills out a detention form and hands it to you. You trudge to your desk, the detention form crumpled around your fingers. You slip into your usual seat and bonk your head against the desk as quietly as you can muster. You pull out the homework for the day and get your laptop out, ready to take notes. You robotically go through the rest of your day, the crumpled detention form sitting in between pages of your notebook. You don't even notice when someone steps into your path until you're falling head over heels. Your books fly everywhere, and your face bashes into the floor. A gush of blood spatters the floor and you look up at the brick wall you ran into. You sigh and push yourself up off the floor, wiping the blood from your face with the back of your hand.

"Can I help you Jeremy or are you just here to be a dick? I've got places to be and none of those places involve you and your slimy friends." You begin to gather your books and Jeremy plants his foot right in your ribs sending you sprawling again. You try to push him off but the angle makes it hard to breathe. You're gasping like a fish and struggling to breathe as his full body weight begins to lean on your ribs.

"Hey! Douchebag!" A new voice enters the mumbling fray and it falls dead silent as a pair of combat boots enter the scene. That's all you can see of your savior from the floor. Jeremy's weight leaves your body and you gasp in relief. You try and pick yourself up from the floor. Your ribs scream in pain and you heave yourself off the floor. Jeremy's giant body hits the floor at that exact moment and you finally get a glimpse of your savior.

He's draped in an oversized leather jacket and his bright green eyes turn toward you just as the principal breaks through the circle.

"What is going on here?" Mr. Seewer picks you up by the arm and your side screams. You scrunch your face up so as not to cry and shrug him off. "Does anybody want to explain themselves? You know we have a no fighting policy."

"It wasn't a fight sir." Your voice is so loud in the quiet hallway. "Jeremy was standing on my ribs and he stepped in to save me." You wave a vague hand at green eyes who doesn't say anything. His brows are furrowed and angry as he stares down at Jeremy groaning on the floor. Mr. Seewer's eyebrows raise and he looks around at the scene before him. Your books are still scattered on the floor and the slowly drying puddle of your blood is starting to congeal on the tile. Jeremy is laying on the floor and crying like a baby. He nod solemnly and turns back to you.

"Go see the nurse. You too, Dean. I'm putting you on escort duty." Green eyes begins to move and he gathers your things from the floor. When he approaches you his eyes are bright and there's a satisfied grin on his face.

"I don't think he'll be bothering you anymore." He pushes you gently to get you started and you begin the slow walk to the nurse's office. Holding your side the two of you walk through the throngs of onlookers. When you reach your destination Dean knocks politely on the office door before opening it, ushering you in front of him. At the sight of your face, the nurse almost drops his coffee mug. 

The nurse fusses over you for the better part of 30 minutes while Dean sits quietly in the corner in a chair. Parents are called, ibuprofen is given, and ice packs administered. When your parents show up in the doorway your mother's face is drawn and worried and your father is giving the principal a piece of his mind. A crooked smile comes to your face and your lip splits causing blood to dribble down your face. You look around your mother as she hovers and see Dean get up, heading for the door. He glances at you before he leaves and you mouth your thanks at him. He says nothing. He just shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and walks out ducking around a corner out of sight.

"I'm sorry sir. It's our policy."

"Dad, stop it's fine. It's no big deal. Jeremy won't be messing with me anymore and I still have detention anyway. Just go home guys. I'll be home after a while." You get up from the cot, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as your ribs throb. You ignore your parents as you hurry for the cafeteria, hoping that you'll get to properly thank Dean. Much to your surprise Dean is sitting with a smaller boy at one of the empty lunch tables. You check in with the detention monitor and plonk your stuff down across from them. The smaller boy looks up at you and he gives you a wide grin.

"I'm Sam! Are you friends with Dean?" You smile at Sam's innocence and nod simply.

"You could say that. Dean rescued me today." Sam looks over at Dean, eyes wide with wonder.

"No way! You did? That's so cool Dean!" Dean's smile is full of that kind of doting you can only get when you're a big brother.

"Is there any way I can thank you, Dean? I've got to do something. I'd feel horrible otherwise." The detention monitor yells at the three of you to be quiet and you catch Dean's eye. He nods and gets to work on something in a notebook while Sam reads a comic book of some kind. You watch Dean struggle for 10 minutes before you yank the notebook away from him, write down the answer and your explanation and hand it back to him. Dean's eyebrows hit his hairline as he reads what you've written. He thanks you quietly and the two of you get back to work.

Once detention is over you extend a hand to stop Dean.

"I'll tutor you. You were struggling pretty hard with those graphs. I can help you." Dean shakes his head firmly, but Sam's insistent pleas for you to come with them finally make him relent. You walk with them to the motel room they're currently calling home and once Dean checks to make sure his father isn't there he lets you in.

"Dad doesn't like strangers. Bad habits die hard." You relax into the single chair at the table and sigh in relief as your ribs stop throbbing. "Let me take a look at your side. We should make sure they aren't broken." You struggle not to show any reaction, but Dean catches it. "We've all got scars," He whispers quietly enough that Sam can't hear him. "Let's go to the bathroom." You accept and when you step into the bathroom with him and he shuts the door you realize how tiny the space is. There's barely enough room for the two of you to maneuver and you catch something in Dean's eyes as you brush against each other.

He helps you out of your jacket and shirt. He warns you of his cold hands before he begins gently probing the area. You exhale forcefully as he hits a particularly tender spot.

"Sorry. Nothing's broken. You're just super fuckin' bruised, but you should be fine." You don't say anything as you reach past him for your shirt. He catches you underneath the arm and holds a finger to his lips. The motel door slams shut and you hear the drunken slur of a man. Sam's young voice chimes in an answer occasionally, the fear evident in his voice. A sudden bang on the bathroom door makes the both of you jump.

"Boy! Are you in there? Get your ass out here Dean!" Dean curses quietly. He hands you your shirt and jacket and almost shoves you to the bathroom window. You lever it open and as quietly as you can you slip out. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your jacket and you pull it out, the cold fall air causing chills to ripple across your skin.

_We've got a hunt. Get home ASAP._ You sigh and pull your clothes back on, jogging towards home.

You're sore, tired, scratched, and bleeding when your family gets home from the hunt. You shower, dress your wounds and fall into bed. You dream about Dean's green eyes the whole night.

It seems as if that was yesterday. You muse as you head towards the sight of the suspected werewolf. The memory of that green-eyed, leather-jacketed dreamboat had popped into your mind and you melted a little inside just to think of it. I wonder what he looks like now. You pull up to the curb and turn your lights off, hoping that no nosy neighbors had spotted you. You get out and pop the trunk. You dig through your go-bag for what you need when you hear the sound of a shotgun racking.

"Who the fuck are you?" You freeze, your bones knowing the sound of that voice anywhere. It got deeper and rougher but that's still the same voice. _Sorry. Nothing's broken. You're just super fuckin' bruised, but you should be fine._ The cold barrel of a shotgun presses into your lower back and you stand slowly keeping your hands raised above your head.

"Hey, Dean. Long time no see. I still have scars from the encounter with Jeremy." The barrel wavers and you hear his voice quiet as a whisper.

"It's you. Isn't it?" You turn around and come face to face with him for the first time since you were 16. He's tall, rough cut, and tan. His eyes are just as apple bright green as they were when you were teenagers. "Holy shit. It is you! I didn't know you were a hunter!" You shrug and smile, scratching the back of your neck.

"My parents were. Now so am I. Family business I suppose." You glance over Dean's shoulder and you gape when you catch sight of the younger brother. "When the fuck did you get so tall Sam? What the hell happened?" Sam laughs and strides up to stand next to his brother.

"I was like 12 the last time you saw me. What did you expect?" You shrug and grab your weapons from the trunk. Dean nods in approval and with silent communication, the three of you begin to move. The werewolf was feral and a hard one to put down. Some time afterward, you and Dean are sitting enjoying a beer together.

"You know I've been in love with you since we were 16," Dean says this so casually that you almost choke on your beer. 

"You too?" You manage to get out in between alcohol-laced coughs. Dean blushes slightly and tilts his head. "I've been wanting to kiss you since the day you left me. I stood on those steps for an hour afterward thinking about what would have happened if I had just grabbed you by the lapels of that stupid leather jacket and kissed you senseless." Now it's Dean's turn to choke on beer. As he coughs and splutters, you toss your empty into a nearby trash can and take the beer bottle out of Dean's hand. Dean looks at you with narrowed eyes.

"A man's beer is sacred. You know this." You snort and grab him by the lapels.

"More sacred than this?" You turn your face up to his and he meets you halfway. His lips are soft but chapped. Your kiss is chaste at first, but a rumble from deep in Dean's throat lets you know where he's going. He spins you and pins you against the wall. You open your mouth to him and the taste of cheap alcohol overwhelms your senses. The faint taste of apple pie makes you clutch at him and his fingers run through your hair. The sound of the motel room door opening makes both of you jump apart. The sight of your blushed faces and panting breaths makes it obvious to Sam what happened. Luckily, for the two of you, he doesn't say anything about it.

"Dean, we might have another case." He then promptly shuts the door. Dean and you meet eyes. The heat in his gaze is enough to warm you for a lifetime.

"Come with us. Nobody should hunt alone. That's dangerous work."

"You're just saying that so you can get in my pants."

"Maybe I am but at least they're noble intentions."


	29. As Close As We Can

A knock sounds at Dean's door and he crosses his fingers that it's another hot nurse. The door swings open to reveal a figure in a wheelchair and a definitely not attractive nurse.

"What are you supposed to be? The welcoming committee?" You laugh and roll into his room, thanking the nurse.

"I guess you could say that. You're the newest kid on the block and it's my unofficial job to make our residents feel homey." This last word is said with a smirk and a bit of a chuckle. You both are quiet for a long moment. His eyes are slipping closed every few minutes, the morphine making his world tilt at odd angles. "Maybe I should come back when you're not high on painkillers."

"No! You can stay! We'll watch Food Network. Is my favorite channel." His fingers find the remote and the TV switches on. A marathon of Chopped is running and the two of you sit there in comfortable silence for 3 or 4 episodes before he is asleep. Didn't even get the chance to grab his name. Morphine is a wonderful thing. You maneuver the stick on your chair and try to lever open the door. A passing nurse sees you struggling with the door and opens it for you. You roll back to your room and your mood seems to take a downward turn.

There's a knock at your door and Jamie opens it, wheeling a cart in.

"It's that time of the day my dude. Let's get you drugged and fed." Jamie always knows how to make you smile. The routine of meds, flush, and feed makes the day seem somewhat normal but your mind keeps drifting back to the newest addition to the ward. His eyes are the color of granny smith apples and his smile is boyish and shy when he's doped up. It makes you wonder what he's like when he's not high on pain killers. Seconds drift into minutes and minutes drift into hours. Your fingers reach for your phone and you send a text to your bff.

_Dude boy assistance ASAP_

Your phone nearly vibrates out of your hand 30 seconds later and you answer the phone, setting it on your tray table and putting it on speaker.

"Who is this mans and how hot is he?" You sigh and begin to describe your experience with the new boy. "Sounds hot. 10/10 would bang."

"God, you're impossible. Glad you approve." You hear some kind of racket start on their end and the sound of raised voices greet your ears.

"Gotta go babe. Somebody has decided to start a fight. Love you." They hang up the phone and you're left feeling even more empty than you were before. You try to shake yourself out of this funk by heading down to visit the NICU. The desk nurse greets you with a smile and informs you that it's feeding time. You grin and head for your usual spot in front of the observation window. You desperately wished that your arms were strong enough to hold one of the infants but even the tiniest one is too much on your weak musculature. Hours pass and parents float in and out checking on their newest additions.

"Phone call for you," The desk nurse looks just as confused as you feel and you take the phone from her bringing it up to your ear.

" 'ello?"

"The boy is asking for you. He's lucid and not on drugs. If you don't come see him I might have to smother him with a pillow; he's been talking about you non stop to anyone who will listen." A smile begins to spread on your face and you hand the phone back to the desk nurse. You push your chair as fast as it will go, reaching the elevators you push the button like a game of Hungry Hungry Hippo. When the door finally opens you roll inside and jam the button for the ICU ward and yell silently for the elevator to go faster. Your heart is racing out of your chest and you have no idea why you're so excited to see him. You met him once and he was high on painkillers the entire time.

You nearly skid to a stop outside his room and try to compose yourself. You knock on the door and when you hear an answer call out from within the room you enter. A bright smile splits his face when he sees you and he gestures for you to come closer. A giant of a man is spread out in a chair and snoring gently and despite the fact that your chair is whisper-quiet he snorts awake.

"You must be the welcome committee," He grumbles, rubbing at his eyes. You acknowledge him with a nod and try not to make eye contact. He stands and stretches, audible popping coming from his spine. He groans and heads for the door. "I'm getting coffee D. You want any?" The man in the bed shakes his head and Paul Bunyan steps out of the room.

"You know I never did catch your name. You were on a lot of morphine." His laugh is low and throaty. It causes small shivers to crawl their way up your spine.

"I'm Dean Winchester. I know you aren't just the welcoming committee. Tell me, who are you?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out." Your insides recoil in horror at your poor attempt at flirting but Dean seems to buy it. He cock his head to the side like a curious puppy and his smile is full of mirth. "Whenever you get out of this bed and semi-mobile, you wanna have lunch with me down in the canteen?"

"I don't know how long I'll be here to be honest with you. My brother and I are the nomadic types of people." You sit there for a moment pondering his words.

"Well, maybe I can convince you to stay."


	30. Tear Tracks

"No way Jose. Not happening," Dean's mouth twists up in annoyance and he huffs. "Don't pout at me. I'm not doing it." Dean opens his mouth, decides better than to argue, and closes it again. He sulks in his seat at the table, cradling his barely full beer bottle as though it were a newborn. You take the last drink from yours and the empty clink of glass on the tabletop is the only sound besides your breathing. The silence stretches on for 10 minutes, then 20, then 30, before Dean decides to break the silence.

"I'm goin' to bed." You stand with him and grab him by the elbow when he wobbles. He brushes you off and stumbles off to his bedroom. Sighing, you clear the table of his empty bottles and make sure that everything is locked up tight before going to bed yourself. You get changed and the chill of the sheets makes goosebumps ripple across your skin. You shiver and lay there staring at the ceiling until sleep slowly drags you down.

You blink your eyes open, the last vestiges of the dream you were having slipping from your mind. You feel a certain sense of unease as you sit up, looking around the room. Your hand slips underneath your pillow and your fingers find the cold steel of your pistol. You slowly slip out of the covers and pad for the door. You wince as the hinges to your door creak and you step silently out into the hallway. A hoarse cry comes from down the hall and you make your way towards it. You spot movement out of the corner of your eye and swivel towards it pistol raised. Sam raises his eyebrow at you and you shrug turning back down the hall. The cry sounds again and it seems to be originating from Dean's room. You and Sam look at each other and start towards it.

You take one side of the doorway and he takes the other. He holds up three fingers and when he puts the last one down you open the door and step away. He enters, pistol up and you come in close behind. Dean is twisted in the sheets and his face is screwed up in pain and tears are rolling down his face.

"Dean," Your voice mingles with his painful cries. His back arches off the bed and his nails dig into his palms leaving angry red crescents. You set your pistol on safety and set it down on Dean's dresser. Holding up a hand to Sam, you gently sit yourself on the unoccupied side of Dean's bed. You reach towards him and lay a gentle hand on his forehead, sweeping the sweat dampened hair away from his forehead. Dean's eyes shoot open and his fingers wrap around your wrist like a vice. He twists your arm until you're gasping in pain. He hovers over you, teeth gritted, eyes alive with malice. You squeeze your eyes shut, and say through gritted teeth. "Dean, it's me." His calluses leave your skin and you roll your shoulder trying to ease the arcing pain.

"Sorry," His voices is hoarse. He clears his throat and you can feel his weight shift behind you as he sits on the edge of the bed.

" 's fine. You ok man? You were screaming in your sleep. I thought something was attacking you." You scoot to the edge, sitting next to him. He rubs a hand on his face, trying to wipe away the tear tracks.

"Scram Sammy. This ain't something you need to hear." Sam's sounds of protest are drowned out by Dean's roar. "NOW SAM." Sam glares at him and walks from the room, his footsteps soon a quiet echo. "I dreamt of hell, but it was different this time." Dean's voice is so much quieter than it was just moments ago. He's whispering, the pain evident in his words. "It wasn't me being tortured. It was you and Sammy. I was the one holding the knife. Carving your skin and tearing you to pieces." He drops his head to your shoulder and he begins to cry. You murmur to him, holding him as his body shakes. His fingers wrap themselves in your t-shirt and he cries letting out everything that's been pent up for so long.

"Come on D. Get under the covers." He shakes his head and unwraps himself from you. You nudge him until he relents sliding underneath his sheets. You comb your fingers through his hair, humming to him. After your fourth rendition of 'Hey Jude' Dean's eyes slip closed. You sit with him until his breathing evens out. It's a rare occasion that Dean Winchester is at peace, but you treasure these moments. His face is open and calm as he begins to lightly snore. You smile and know for sure that he's out but you decide to stay anyways just in case. You gently set a chair next to his bedside and lean back. A small smile settles across your face as you know that Dean is peacefully asleep and you slip away yourself into the land of dreams.


	31. Alleyway Meeting

"Have you ever considered the concept of actually getting a holster? You know, instead of taking the risk of blowing one of your ass cheeks off?" Sam coughs to disguise the laugh that slips out and covers the grin behind his hand. Dean's eyebrows hit his hairline and he turns to face you.

"And where exactly would you suggest I put this holster?" The smile that splits your face is malevolent. You say nothing and lean back in your chair. He narrows his eyes at you and shakes his head going back to the research at hand. Your eyes close and you stretch your arms over your head. A loud crack echoes through the room and a delicious shudder makes it way down your body.

"I'm hungry. You guys want anything?" You stand from your spot at the table and pull your jacket on. Both of the boys nod and you snag Dean's wallet. He protests but you ignore him as you walk out. The cool fall air hits your face in a refreshing wave. You begin a slow and peaceful walk to the diner just around the corner and watch your surroundings with a watchful eye. The changing of the leaves is a sight to see in this part of the States. You approach the cheerily lit diner but your eyes are pulled away by movement in the shadows. You tense, sliding your hand in your jacket, and walking slowly towards the source of the movement. As you get closer your eyes adjust to the darkness and you see a mugging in progress. You inwardly breathe a sigh of relief. Just regular old people. No spooky things here.

"Hey, tough guy. Why don't you just let that poor person go? There's nothing for you there. Pick a fight with me instead! Maybe you'll get somewhere." Your grin is lopsided and cocky. You can tell that your confident and casual tone has thrown the would-be mugger off and you approach getting within arm's length. The mugger lowers his weapon until it hangs at his side and looks confused. The would-be victim takes that moment to run and sprints across the parking lot disappearing into the diner's lit interior. "Give me the knife, man. We can forget this ever happened ok? I never saw your face." The glint of cold steel catches your eye and you sidestep. Catching the attacker's wrist you wrench on it hard and he cries out in pain. The knife clatters to the pavement and you put your foot over it. You let go of the hooligan and he glares at you clutching his wrist. He runs off and you pick the knife up off of the ground.

"It's mine now fool. Spoils of war and all that." You fold the switchblade back and shove it in your pocket. The smell of greasy food and root beer floats floods you with nostalgia. You order a to-go bag of food and walk back to the motel.

"You're bleeding dude." Sam's voice is concerned and you look at him funny. You swipe a hand across your face and it comes away bloody.

"Well, shit. I stopped a mugging so that must be it."

"You did what now?" Dean's on his feet in a second, looking you over. You push his hands away and set the food down on the table. Stripping your jacket off, you run your hands over yourself doing a check and deem everything to be ok. You sit down at the table and dig in, leaving the Winchesters gaping at you.


	32. Educate Me

"You are this close to making me commit homicide, Winchester. And don't think I won't." Your face is twisted into an annoyed scowl as you look up at the hunter. He backs away, hands raised in surrender. His brother cracks a smile and shakes his head turning back to his laptop.

"I was just asking questions," Dean takes a kitchen chair and sits down in it.

"Well, you're too damn curious for your own good. Leave me the hell alone, so I can get this read." Sam leans over to inspect the textbook you're reading and gives up after a few seconds, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

"I don't understand why you're so invested in this college stuff. What are you gonna do with it anyway?" You look up from your notes to give Dean a 'are you fucking serious?" look. You stick a bookmark in your textbook and lean back in your chair.

"Well, for one I'm not wanted for a laundry list of crimes across the entire United States so I have the freedom to study without the FBI coming down on my ass. Two, I really want to do something other than hunt monsters for the rest of my life because we both know what usually happens in this lifestyle. I don't feel like getting murdered. That's the end of it, Dean. Now leave me alone so I can study." Sam snorts out a laugh and Dean socks him in the arm.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Still scribbling notes a few hours later, Dean comes back to you and snatches the textbook from you. If looks could kill the eldest Winchester boy would be dead a thousand times over.

"Take a break. Let's go get something to drink." Your cramping fingers and aching head agree with Dean's sentiment and you groan.

"Alright, but just one. Ok? I've got an exam to study for." Dean takes you to the local dive and you sit down for a drink. That one drink always turns into ten and before you know it you're rambling drunkenly to an attentive Winchester.

"And then this guy has the _audacity_ to insinuate that the entire thing is my fault just because my sexual orientation isn't _normal_. Like, what the fuck? On what planet do random white frat boys get to tell me how to live my life? Not this one, that's for fucking sure." Dean nods in assent and takes another swig from his beer. "Have you ever had anything like that happen to you, Dean?" He shrugs, screwing his face up in thought.

"Once or twice but only because I was hitting on some girl's boyfriend instead of her. She got pissed and slapped me once or twice before I could get an apology in. I hate people like that. Always formulating their opinion of you before you can even get two words out. They don't even know you but they claim they know everything about you just from either your appearance or your behavior." You hold your bottle up to him and take a long pull. Your brain is snagging on something important but the drinks have made things hazy. Not that you mind, after all, studying was beginning to give you a headache. Your eyes fly wide and you facepalm yourself, much to the amusement of the other bar patrons.

"Dean I need to study!" You try to stand from the barstool and your legs feel about as steady as the deck of a ship at sea. Dean grabs onto your arm and chuckles. He pays the bartender and walks you out, talking to you the whole way.

"Why are you still intent on studying? College is a waste of time and money anyway." You shrug Dean off and sit yourself down on the curb.

"It's the only way I can survive. I don't want to be stuck in this life forever. Running and running. Covered in scars and scratches and blood, always afraid to look around every corner. I may be a hunter in blood but I want the choice to change my future." Dean sits down next to you and his demeanor has changed. He seems sad and despondent, his shoulders hunched.

"I understand that. Dad dragged me headfirst into this business when I was only a kid. Sammy was only a baby and I was only 4 when mom died. I was being taught things like how to load a shotgun when other kids my age were learning their multiplication tables. Shit happens and life doesn't always go the way you plan, but learning to control your own life is definitely a start. I'm sorry that I keep giving you shit. It's-"

Your head drops to Dean's shoulder as a sudden wave of exhaustion slams over you. You yawn and blink your eyes a few times struggling to stay awake.

"Alright, let's get you back." Dean eases out from underneath your head and climbs to his feet. He extends a hand out to you. Right as you look up at him a cold waterfall of alcohol pours over you and you gasp like a fish out of water. Beer stings your eyes and runs into your mouth, soaking your shirt and making the slight chill of the night that much worse.

"Fuckin' queers. There's no room on this Earth for people like you. Go to hell." Dean's face twists up in rage and you soberly pull yourself to your feet. Wiping beer out of your eyes, you get your first real good look at your antagonist. Of course, their face is full of Dean's fist as he slugs the person.

"Been to hell, come back. Nothing to sneeze at. Come on Dean. I want to go to bed." You stumble off down the street until Dean catches up with you and rights you when you almost fall. "Thanks for that. I get that more often than I thought I would in this era." Dean doesn't say anything for a long, quiet moment. He opens his mouth like he's going to say something then shuts it again as though he thought better of whatever he was going to say. When he opens his mouth again it takes your brain a minute to comprehend what he's saying.

"I've had my fair share of that. It's not a huge deal. I'll always take care of things like that for you and I'll always take care of you. Now let's get you back to the motel you smell like cheap beer." _I love you too, dork._


	33. Band-Aids and Three Piece Suits

The air conditioning causes goosebumps to run across your skin and you barely withhold a shiver. You continue your routine, sweat gleaming on your skin. The cold metal of the pole beneath your palms is all that centers you in the blur of multicolored lights, crumpled dollar bills, and reek of cheap liquor. You finish and the cat calls are loud. You look down your nose at them, your bottom lip tucked into your teeth. One man in particular catches your eye. He's dressed finer than most of these other men and the gaze of his candy apple eyes makes your heart race. Picking up the dollar bills, you make your way off the stage and slink towards the figure in the shadows.

"Hey there handsome. Looking for something a little more-" You pause tapping a finger against your bottom lip. "Hands-on?" The bright white of the suited man's smile is blinding in this dingy place. He inclines his chin, his lips pouting as he seems to ponder your proposition.

"How much?" His voice is so deep, it sends shivers right down to your core. You give him a casual shrug and run a hand through your hair.

"How long do you want me?"

"Does forever sound good?"

"If you've got the cash, I've got the ass sir." He chuckles and reaches into his suit jacket, pulling out a thick wallet he hands you a black credit card. You take the card from him and hold up a hand, motioning for him to sit tight. You run the credit card up to the bar and hand it to Julio, who arches his eyebrows. "Keep the tab running. This guy can afford it." You crook a finger towards the suit and he stands, downing the last of his drink. He buttons the suit and it's all you can do not to drool. He's a specimen to behold. Tall, chiseled, and rugged he fits all of your fantasies. You lead him to the "dungeon" because there's something in the back of your mind that says he's the kinky kind.

The only indication he gives you is a slight widening of the eyes and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He catches you looking and gives you a nod of approval. He sheds his suit jacket as you close the door and by the time you've turned back around he has his tie in his hands.

"How rough do you want to play?" His voice has a tone of anticipation in it and his hands are almost shaking wrapped in the fabric of his tie.

"You can bruise me if you want to sir. I'll allow it." You smile cheekily and turn your back on him. What little clothes you're wearing are slowly peeled off. Hooking your thumbs in your briefs you pull them down just enough to see the top of your cheeks. Looking over your shoulder, you watch him approach. The material of his dress shirt skims across your bare back making you shiver. "Tie me up and I promise I'll be a good boy for you."

The tie wrapped in his hands comes around to the front. He presses it against your throat and gently begins to lay on the pressure. The air slowly escapes from your lungs and you would gasp in ecstasy if you had any breath. The slow pressure and lack of oxygen is making your head spin and spots dance in your vision. He releases the pressure and you gasp for air. Letting the tie fall to the floor he reaches around and grabs you right by the package making you groan. Pushing your briefs down he palms you, running his thumb over the tip. His lips fall to your neck and he nibbles at the sensitive skin there.

"How are you feeling?" His voice vibrates across your skin and makes your spine curl.

"Like I've finally felt pleasure for the very first time and darling I do this for a living." His laugh reverberates through the room. He, suddenly, steps away from you the cold of his absence making your skin erupt in goosebumps. The rustle of material makes you curious enough to look and the sight behind you is enough to make you want to fall to your knees. His shirt is in a pile on the floor and his torso looks like it was sculpted by some higher deity. He starts to unbutton his slacks and you know it's on.

Some time later in a blur of bruises and pleasure the establishment begins to shut down for the night. As he's buttoning up his shirt, something crosses your mind.

"You know we never did exchange names." His eyebrows hit his hairline.

"You can have the privilege of calling me Dean. Only you." You give him a sultry smile and make your way out of the room.

"He's done for the night!" You call over to Julio at the bar who gives you a strange look and a thumbs up. As you look around you notice that everyone is giving you strange looks and its starting to irritate you. "What gives? What's with the looks?" Julio points to his neck and collarbone. You look down, confused, and see what everyone is staring at. There's a bite mark on your collarbone. Glancing at a nearby reflective surface, you glimpse a hickey. A smirk crosses your face and you see him in the reflection. His eyes flash and he gives you a subtle head tilt.

Oh, there is definitely more where that came from.


	34. Coping

The feeling is overwhelming and you can't shut it down. You've stared this monster in the face so many times before, and you can never beat it down. The rising panic in your chest is suffocating and you can feel your throat closing. The pressure makes you sink to your knees. You cover your face and weep. Your body shakes and you collapse. You lay on your side, curled in the fetal position, whimpering pitifully. The memories of everything crashing onto you like a tsunami you can hardly get a breath in. The crack of breaking bones and the sting of fresh wounds plays across your skin like they're still happening. Hands touch your skin and you scream, scooting away. Cowering in the corner you curl inwards protecting yourself as best you can.

"Hey, you're ok. Angel eyes can you look at me? They aren't here. You're ok. It's ok." You stare into the darkness that comes with the shelter of your arms. If you don't look you're safe. That always works. Never look them in the eyes and you'll stay unbroken. Flesh won't be burnt, bones won't be broken, and scars won't be formed. Rocking back and forth silently, you bite down on your lip so hard you break skin. The copper taste of your blood centers you slightly and you realize that you're not there. They can't hurt you. They're dead. You take a deep breath and raise your head. The Winchesters are kneeling in front of you and a smattering of people are gathered behind them.

"Where are we?" Your voice breaks slightly and as you try to keep another flood of tears at bay.

"We're in the bunker honey. What did you see?"

"Memories. Bad ones." Every face turns understanding and similar flashes of pain cross every single one of them in sympathy.

"I know you don't like to be touched after your flashbacks, but I feel like you need to be held." You crawl forward and tuck yourself into Dean's open arms. The warmth of him and the scent of vanilla make your anxiety tick down slightly. He holds you tight and rocks slightly knowing that that comforts you. Curling your fingers into the fabric of his henley, you close your eyes.

"I love you Dean." His lips press into your forehead and you can feel his smile on your skin.

"I love you more than you will ever know. That will never change."


	35. Trapped In Beauty

“This will be an easy hunt, they said. Totally easy, they said. Well, they were wrong.” Your voice is loud in the empty halls of the museum and the dark corners are making you paranoid. The deepening shadows make your brain start running at light speed, imagining all the creatures that could be watching you. You give yourself a bit of a mental smackdown and push aside the exhaustion riding your brain like a show pony. Your feet are aching and your head is too. The three of you have been chasing this particular entity for a week straight and you can’t remember the last time you slept for more than 20 minutes at a time.

“Find anything?” Dean’s voice makes you jump and you nearly shoot the poor bastard. He chuckles quietly, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I know. I’m tired too. We’ll get out of here soon, I promise.” The smile he gives you is a weary one, but full of something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Hey, you two. Get over here. I might have found something.” Sam gestures the two of you into a side gallery where he stops in front of a painting. He pulls out his EMF reader and soon as he turns it on it begins screeching. You flinch at the harsh sound in the relative quiet of the museum. Sam turns it off and puts it back in his pocket. “What do you think Dean? Haunted painting.” You stare at the artwork in front of you. Something is tickling the back of your brain about this particular piece and you can’t quite put your finger on it.

“I’ve seen this before.” The brothers turn to you with confused looks. “I saw this at that pawn shop in the first town, and I saw it when we were in that abandoned house in the last town. Now, it’s here. It’s been there the whole time we just never realized it.” The brothers give each other a look that only the two of them know and Dean steps up to the painting. He tries to pull it off the wall and it seems to be stuck. He heaves on it and steps back, looking at Sam in exasperation. Sam gives it a try and the art doesn’t move. You shrug and step up to it, thinking what the hell, I’ll give it a try. As soon as your fingertips touch the frame the picture on the canvas shivers slightly. Thinking it’s just the sleep deprivation you put whole hands on it and that’s when the fabric of reality just seems to fold in on itself. A hand reaches out from the landscape and grabs a hold of you. You scream and try to fight it prying at the fingers curled in the fabric of your shirt.

“Let him go!” Dean’s gun is raised and his finger is on the trigger.

“Don’t shoot Dean. It won’t do any good.” Sam steps up next to him and the panic on his face is evident but he appears to be trying to stay calm for the sake of his older brother. Dean looks on the verge of having a meltdown and the barrel of the handgun is shaking so hard he wouldn’t be able to hit anything even if he tried. Your toes are barely touching the ground and your head is starting to hurt. The smell of burnt ozone is clogging your airways and the heavy stench is so thick you could choke on it. Trying not to panic, you begin the slow, arduous process of prying the fingers out of your shirt. You’re nearly folded in half when the translucent hand pulls you through the painting and into the landscape of the artwork. You look around in pure panic and press your fingers against the inside of the canvas. You can’t see out and you bang your fists on the edges.

“Dean, are you there? Can you hear me?” The outside suddenly appears and you can see the faces of the brothers. Alarmed, Dean is trying to hack his way through the canvas and it seems as though the art is invincible. The knife is bouncing off the paint without making a scratch.

“Damn haunted paintings! I should’ve known this job was a bad idea!” Sam puts a hand on Dean’s arm and Dean throws him off. Tears begin to well in his eyes and your heart breaks to see him so distressed. You put your hands up against the barrier and Dean pauses. He looks you right in the eyes and it hurts to see him looking so broken. “I don’t know if you can hear me but if you can we’re gonna get you out. I won’t stop until we do. I’m sorry.” He whispers those last two words so quietly that you almost don’t catch them.

Time is a blur after that. Your watch nor your phone works in this strange place and you have no idea how much time passes. The only way you can figure it out is when one of the brothers shows up to test a new theory or just to talk to your beautiful cage. You’ve tried responding to them but they can’t seem to hear you. You’ve seen Bobby, Castiel, and all sorts of others try their hand but no one can seem to get you out.

One of the last times you receive a visitor Dean lets you know that you’ve been trapped in this painting for 6 months. His voice breaks when he tells you they don’t know how to get you out and that they don’t know if they can. You lean against the barrier and lean your forehead against it. Dean launches into a story about how he had bought you a ring and was planning on proposing to you on your birthday and now he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

“You are my life and my everything. How can I go on without you? You know that I’m not one to ever get emotional or have a chick flick moment but right now I don’t give a damn. I love you with all of my being. It feels like the very oxygen has been ripped from my lungs and I’m gasping for air with nothing to breathe. With you gone, my world feels like it’s been reduced and I feel so alone. Yeah, I’ve got Sammy but he’s my little brother. I know that I’ve always got him. I want you. I need you. If you can come back to me. Please-” His voice breaks on that last word and he begins to cry. Anger flares in you and you kick and scream, pounding on that barrier between you and the one you love. You scream until your throat is raw and you punch until your fists are broken and bleeding. You collapse and weep.

“I’m sorry Dean. I love you.” The barrier between you disappears and you fall out of the painting, hitting the floor painfully. “Shit, that hurt.” You sit up and blink at your familiar surroundings. Dean stares at you for a solid 10 seconds before he launches himself at you. He hugs you tightly to his chest.

“You’re back. Oh god, you’re back. You’re here. Never leave me again. I can’t take it. Life without you isn’t an option.” You cling to him and breathe in that familiar Winchester scent.

“I will never leave you. Hell or high water, monster or demons, ghost or gouls, I will always be be your side. Forever.”


	36. Late Nights

The lamp is the only illumination in the dark bunker library and your eyes are aching. This mystery has been eating at you for weeks and the paper trail seems endless. You’ve combed through book after book and you’ve gotten nothing but a major headache and a back cramp. Shutting the book louder than you probably need to, you get up and turn the lamp off. Blinded by the sudden darkness, you stand there frozen. Your fingers on the top of the wood table are the only thing anchoring you in the sudden darkness. Your eyes finally adjust to the lack of light and you make your way down into the depths of the bunker, intending on getting a snack from the kitchen to calm your rumbling stomach. You run your fingers along the wall using it to guide you down the midnight halls. Turning into the kitchen, you go about the task of making yourself a late night sandwich. The racking of a gun stops you in your tracks and you turn slowly on your heel. Dean stands in the doorway, his pistol pointed at your face. At the sight of your familiar features his shoulders sag and he sighs.

“Feel like making a sandwich for me? I’ll eat something since I’m up.” You nod and go back to the task at hand adding another sandwich to the platter. You set it down on the kitchen table and the two of you sit down at it. “It’s awful dark in here. Turn the light on, genius.” Preparing to be blinded, you cross the room and find the light switch. Squeezing your eyes shut, you flip the switch and slowly crack your lids. The stab of light in your eyes makes them water, but you power through it and sit back down across from Dean. 

“What are you doing up this late? Other than having a midnight snack.”

“I was doing some more research but I got frustrated, hungry, and tired so I decided to call it a late night. Why are you up?”

“I heard something in the kitchen and, naturally, I decided to go and see who was stealing my food at the crack of ass in the morning.” Your grin is weary as you finish the rest of your sandwich, washing it down with a sip from Dean’s glass. “Hey, jerk! Get your own!” You smile and prop your head on your hand, the exhaustion beginning to take you in. Your head slips from your hand and your forehead smacks the table. Never mind the bruise that you’re going to have, you’re out like a light. Dean’s eyebrows hit his hairline and he taps you on the head. When he gets no response he snorts a laugh. He stands up from the table and cleans up what he can quietly. He approaches you and delicately scoops you up. You sigh and lay your head in the curve of his neck. He turns the lights off with an elbow and stands in the hallway, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the abrupt darkness. The soft puff of your breath against his neck makes his spine tingle. His eyes finally adjust and he sets off towards your room. He bumps the door open with his hip and sets you gently down on your bed. You grab his arm and his heart stops, stuttering back into rhythm when he realizes he isn’t being attacked.

“Stay here Dean. Please, I don’t want to be alone.” Dean pauses and considers you for a moment before sitting down on the edge of the bed. He slips his boots off and takes off his flannel throwing it on the back of a nearby chair. He lays down and curls up on his side next to you. You snuggle into him, slotting yourself into the spots that you fit like a matching puzzle piece. Dean’s mind is racing as he tries to figure out what to do, but eventually he just goes with it. Sam finds the two of you in the afternoon still curled around each other. You, protected in the curve of Dean’s body and Dean sheltering you against the outside world.


	37. Struggle Harder

“Seeing your face has made me want to die. I wasn’t quite prepared for this feeling. I’ve already died once, not ready to do it a second time. Certainly, not by your hand.” The chill of the blade underneath your chin makes your skin crawl. The contrast between his hot breath and the blade is confusing the hell out of your brain

“Well, we can always arrange that second death. It won’t be that hard. Especially, the way I've got you right now.”You lean your head back far enough to see him and the blade nicks your skin causing warm blood to run down. It falls beneath the collar of your shirt and you can see his breathing pick up. What a sick bastard. I bet if I could see, I’d see the boner popping in his pants. Something crashes in the house and your jailer starts cutting you deeper. You hiss through your teeth quietly at the slight heat of pain, but it subsides quickly. They move to the window and peek out between the boards. You take this chance to struggle in your bonds. The knots are quite loose. Clearly, this person is an amateur and wouldn’t know a good knot if it hit them in the face. Freeing your arms and quietly loosening the bonds on your legs, you stand from the chair on weak legs. They’re numb and slowly coming back to life but coordination is not going to be your friend for the next few minutes. You shamble as quietly as you can to the door and slip out before your captor can look up. You duck into what used to be the kitchen and scan it. Is there anything in here besides cobwebs? For their sake, they better hope not. I’m feeling particularly violent. The pounding of footsteps clues you in that your captor has figured out you’re gone and you curse. You dart into an empty room, ducking behind the door. As footsteps approach, you hold your breath praying that they can’t someone sense you’re there.

“Where the fuck did you go?” Their voice is loud and right next to you. You hold yourself still, squeezing your eyes shut. Your lungs are beginning to scream for air and you pray that they move on before you have to take in air. The footsteps begin to get quieter as they get farther away and you let out a relieved breath. You peek out from behind the door and step out into the hallway. Keeping your head on a swivel, you continue your exploration for a weapon. You happen upon a room with a fireplace. Sitting next to it is a set of abandoned fireplace tools and you could whoop for joy. Scrambling over to them, you snatch up the poker. You post yourself by the doorway and take a deep breath, letting it out shakily.

“Hey, asshole! Come and get some!” You strain your ears and wait, listening for the telltale stomps of someone running. Sure enough, you can hear someone coming so you brace yourself. When your captor comes running, you step out into the hallway and swing for all you’re worth. The poker connects with their head with a loud crack and they stagger, falling against the wall. They slide down and the blood pours from them. You pull the poker back again, this time going for an overhand swing, and put all of your weight into it. The man’s head splits like rotten fruit in the sun. Blood and brain matter go everywhere. You get splattered with the remains of his head and freeze in disgust. You fight against the rising gorge in your throat and swallow back the bile threatening to come up. A door slams and you start.

“Is someone there? Please! Can you help me get out of here?” You abandon your poker and pick your way through the house trying to find the person who just entered. You never saw it coming. The machete cleaves your head in two and your body remains standing for just a moment before collapsing to the floor. Your murderer steps out of the shadows with a grim-faced expression.

Dean Winchester wipes his blade on your shirt and sheathes it.

“That was for killing my brother. I hope you burn in hell.”


	38. Forgive Me, Father, For I Have Sinned

The clean sharp scent of cleaning solution makes your nose crinkle and threatens to make you sneeze. Holding that at bay, you sit down in the confessional box. The creak of the wooden bench on the other side of the screen lets you know that there is a priest sitting there.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The words leave your lips and you almost can’t believe that they did. You’ve never been in one of these before, not being an aptly religious man. You’d been attending a service here and now because one of the priests had caught your eye. You knew that whatever deity was upstairs probably frowned upon attending holy services to ogle a priest's ass but you haven’t been struck down yet so what’s it going to hurt.

“For what have you sinned my child?” The timbre that answers yours is a familiar one but you can’t put your finger on it. You sigh and rub your face.

“I have thought of a member of the clergy in a most unholy way. I think about them without their clothes and physically intimate with me. I dream of them in lewd ways and I wish I could have them all for myself, but I know that I cannot because that would be a sin in the eyes of God.” Your words bounce off the wood paneling in the small space. You can hear the creaking of the bench on the other side of the privacy screen and know that you’ve probably made the poor man increasingly uncomfortable.

“Might I ask which member of the clergy you have set your fascination upon?” You whisper his name so quietly that the priest asks you to repeat his name.

“Father Winchester. I dream of Father Winchester.” The door to the other side of the box rattles and you know that the priest has stepped out. You sit there alone for a few minutes, not knowing what to do. The door to your side of the box flies open and you squint at the sudden light. The silhouette of a man stands there in the open doorway. 

“Having dreams about me are you? Bad, lewd thoughts about Father Winchester? You know if you had just asked I could have made all of those fantasies come true.” Father Winchester stands there. His tab collar is pulled to the side and his hair is sticking up everywhere. He extends his hand to you and his eyes are alight with a fire that definitely doesn’t belong on hallowed grounds. You take his hand and he pulls you out of the confession box. He pulls you to him, tight against his body. You can feel every curve and dip of his physique. He glances over his shoulder and seems to make a split-second decision. He pulls you to his lips and your insides liquify. This is everything you have been dreaming about since you joined the congregation. A rumble starts in Father Winchester’s chest and he pulls you ever so tighter against him. He pulls away just far enough for you both to breathe.

“Forgive me, Father, For I Have Sinned.” Your words come out breathy and you pull him back to you. He pushes you up against the wall and the hard planes of his body make you gasp. His tongue slips into your mouth and you curl your fingers into his cassock. He hooks a hand behind your knee and pulls your knee up. He wraps your leg around his waist and goes for the other leg, but you decide to help him out. You jump and wrap your other leg around him. The two of you part and your breath is coming out in pants. Your entire being feels like it's on fire and you want to be consumed by it. Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt and begin to pick them apart. He stops you.

“I want nothing more than you right this moment, but we’ve already desecrated holy ground. Maybe, we should move this party to my apartment down the block.”

“Alright, Winchester. I’ll see you there. You might want to tell the parishioners that have been staring at us for the past five minutes that the peep show was free.” His head turns towards the pews and sure enough there are three of five worshippers standing there. He mutters something under his breath, recites his address for you, and sets you down. You run your fingers through your hair, pick up your discarded bag, and walk out the church with your head held high. Yes, I was making out with your priest. No, I am not ashamed of it. Have you seen him? Anyone would be lucky to have the pleasure of feeling his lips on theirs. You arrive at his apartment complex and frown at the intercom system. Luckily, there are people coming out. You hold a hand out.

“Hold the door please! I forgot my keys!” The mother smiles kindly and shepherds her children out of the way as you duck inside the doorway. You climb the stairs to the apartment and wait outside the door. You know that you look creepy as fuck just standing there so you pull out your phone to try and alleviate some of the tension you feel creeping up on you. He appears in front of you in a rush and you almost drop your phone in surprise.

“Ready?” His voice is low and hushed almost as if he doesn’t want his neighbors to hear him speaking to you. You incline your head towards the door and gesture.

“After you your Holiness.” He sighs and unlocks his door, gesturing you in front of him. You barely have time to look around before you're pressed against a wall. 

“How do you want me?”

“Whatever way you’re willing to give. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”


	39. Stuck In The Wrong Skin

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m fucking stuck!_ You wiggle and struggle but your arms are pinned in just the right position that any movement twists your shoulders in a painful position. Panic rises in your throat and you swallow it down. _You’re a fucking hunter. Are you really about to have a panic attack because you’re stuck?_ You scuffle and bump into the dresser. Pain blooms in your hip and you bite down on your lip to muffle a yelp. You have no spatial awareness and have no idea where you are in the room. Something smacks into you and you fall to the floor in a spark of pain.

“What are you doin?” Dean’s amused tones above you know that you’re absolutely and royally fucked.

“Stop laughing and help me, dickhead.” Warm hands touch your bare skin and you almost scream. He helps you out and you almost sigh in relief but then realize you’re bare-chested in front of Dean Winchester. You rummage around, hands shaking, for a sports bra. Something, anything to not remind Dean that you’re not a whole man. You finally pull clothes on and are too ashamed to look him in the eyes. You pick your binder up off the floor and the stiff tackiness of the cloth makes your skin crawl. Now, you remember why people tell you not to exercise in your binder. 

“I love you dork. Binder or not. You’ll always be my baby boy. Now, do you want to explain to me why you were stuck in said binder?” Clearly, your poker face could use work because Dean’s body language changes. “You wore it when you weren’t supposed to didn’t you? Angel eyes, we’ve talked about this. You’re gonna seriously hurt yourself baby.”

“It’s not that simple Dean. You can’t be someone like me and just ignore what’s in front of you. I’m me and that’s not anything that can change.” You gain the courage to look into his eyes and they show two green pools of sadness. He kisses your forehead and ruffles your hair.

“Love you angel eyes. Always have, always will.”


	40. Jailhouse Rock

“Well, this is a nice change of scenery.”

“This is a prison cell.”

“I was being sarcastic!” You glare daggers at the Winchesters. You’re doing your best to mask the pain that’s washing over your body with every breath. Your bruises ache and your cuts sting. There’s dried blood caked on your wounds and you look like a walking crime scene. Dean’s face betrays what he’s feeling. He feels guilty but also looks like he wants to punch something at the same time, classic Winchester. A deputy walks into view and points a finger at you.

“Come on kid. We’re gonna get you some medical attention.” You nearly cry in relief and push yourself slowly to your feet. You stagger to the open cell door and almost trip into the deputy. They grunt and grab you under the arm guiding you out of the holding block and into a nearby office. “We can only give you minimal stuff as we’re not really equipped to treat injuries like you have.” You nod solemnly and try not to wince as you gingerly ease yourself into the lone chair. The corrections officer that does first aid on you at least attempts to be gentle. Many bandages and ointments later your face feels better but not by much. 

They shove you back into the holding cell and Dean grimaces at the sight of your bandaged face. He pats the spot beside him on one of the benches and you ease down onto it. He wraps his arm around you and, as cautiously as he can, pulls you into his side. You lean against him, all the exhaustion of the day and your pain catching up with you. Lightly, Dean traces patterns on your arm with his fingers knowing that it calms you. Your eyes slip closed and you begin to doze off. As soon as your breathing evens out, Sam starts in on Dean.

“When did you two become a thing?” Sam’s whisper is more like a stage whisper and Dean shushes him, glancing at you beneath his arm.

“If you had been paying attention you would’ve noticed that we have literally been sharing the same bed for like 2 months Sam. We’ve been together for almost 3. Where have you been? Do you even pay attention to anything but what’s currently happening in the book in front of you? I feel like we’ve kinda switched roles here Sammy. It’s more than a little freaky.” Sam opens his mouth to respond when the holding cell door swings open.

“You three. Let’s go, you’re being released.” Dean kisses the top of your head and gently wakes you, telling you that you’re being let out. The three of you shuffle out of the drunk tank like zombies. You’re dehydrated, hungry, and could use a few Tylenol but you’re still alive after a tangle with a particularly nasty creature. After making it through the paperwork and other bureaucratic nonsense you and the boys make it to the motel after an agonizing trek. Sam opens the door and you almost collapse onto the bed. Asleep before your head can even hit the pillow you begin to lightly snore and Dean chuckles. He removes your shoes and wrangles you out of your jacket before covering you with a blanket. You curl your fists into the blanket and curl up. Dean’s face softens while he gazes at you and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Sam.

“Our conversation isn’t over Dean.”

“Fuck off and go to bed Sam.” Dean pulls off his boots and lays down next to you. He cards his fingers through your hair and gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead. You curl up into him and slot yourself into all the familiar places. Dean smiles and closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep.


	41. A Minute To Midnight

“I don’t want to. It’s stupid and I don’t see the point.”

“You get to drink as much and as long as you want to and it’s sanctioned.”

“Done.” You sigh and shake your head, laughing at how easy it was to convince him. Dean Winchester is a simple man. Give him a reason to drink and he’ll be there. Sam doesn’t take much convincing either but he’s not in it for the booze. You set snacks out in the Dean cave and turn the TV to one of the various New Year’s Eve shows going on. The soft leather couch calls to you and you flop down on it enjoying the luxurious feel of cushioning. The clink of glass bottles let you know that Dean has entered the room and he huffs in annoyance when he spots you.

“Scoot the fuck over, couch hog.” You sit up, pulling your knees to your chest and taking the beer that Dean offers you. You two sit in quiet companionable silence until Sam comes in and begins to make conversation with you. The clock runs itself down until there’s only a few minutes to go until midnight. Sam is yawning and Dean is looking more than a little tipsy. In order to keep Sam awake you ask him about the other New Year’s he and Dean have celebrated and to your surprise he tells you that they usually don’t because every year is the same for the brothers.

“Kill monsters and try not to get killed.” You nod in understanding and pull the brothers to their feet when the countdown begins. Dean stands unusually close to you and his face seems more sober than it was just moments ago.

“Hey, don’t people usually kiss someone when the clock strikes midnight.”

“Yeah, usually. Why?” You turn towards him just as the ball drops and he pulls you to him. He captures your lips in an epic kiss and you can taste the cheap beer on his tongue. The rough feel of his stubble grates across your cheeks. _Never let this end. Please, Chuck, do this one thing._ You kiss until your lungs feel they’re about to burst. You pull away from him and the light of the tv plays across his face. The neon colors shine across those eyes and you can see the pure joy in them.

“Happy New Year’s Winchester.”


	42. Back To The Start

_All we have is on the phone. All we have is all I know. When you hang up don’t let go._ ~ **Carlie Hanson**

The chill of the hardwood floors seeps through the thin cotton of your t-shirt and causes your skin to erupt in goosebumps. The glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling capture your attention. Staring at them, you don’t notice footsteps coming down the hallway. A pair of feet stop at the top of your head and you look away from the stars staring into the face of the eldest Winchester.

“What are you doing on the floor?” You don’t answer, your eyes drifting back to the constellations. He crouches down to look you in the eyes interrupting your view and you stare at him. “Are you on drugs?” You stay silent and he sighs in frustration. “Sam! I think he’s broken!” The clomp of his boots get quieter as he walks away and then there are two sets of footsteps. Sam’s face comes into view as he crouches above you. You blink slowly and meet his eyes. 

“Disassociating pretty hard today huh?” You give him no sign of acknowledgment turning your eyes back to the stars.

“Today’s a space day Sammy.” Sam nods and his face disappears from your view.

“Space day Dean. Might as well leave him be until he comes out of it.” Only one set of boots leaves the room and Dean is there. He lays down on the floor next to you and stares up at the smattering of cheap plastic stuck there.

“I used to have some of these before mom died. I had just as many. They would always fall off and bonk me on the head while I was sleeping. Mom would always have to put them back up for me. I think I put some of them up in Sammy’s nursery too. He always loved staring at them when he was a baby.” Your fingers find his and curl around them. He threads his fingers through yours and you two lay together enjoying the silence.

“The floor is cold.” Dean snorts out a laugh. He pulls you to him and his body heat sends a fuzzy feeling through you. You curl into him and close your eyes. Dean’s arms wrap around you and the two of you drift off to sleep. Curled together on the floor, underneath the glowing plastic stars, you finally find rest.


	43. In Bitter Memoriam

You had finally convinced the boys to get a Netflix subscription. You cajole them until they sit down for a movie with you. Selecting _Bird Box_, you snuggle into the blanket and prepare yourself for a show. Not even 30 minutes later, the same Winchesters who didn’t want anything to do with the movie are sitting on the edge of their seats. Dean’s eyes are wide and he’s been totally captured by the film. He’s rigid and almost seems to stop breathing at certain points and when the movie is over all of the tension floods out of him.

“You ok over there Deano?” He just stares at the credits rolling with his mouth slightly agape.

“I can’t believe that happened. That entire movie was a fucking rollercoaster.” You grin at him and switch the TV off. The single lamp that illuminates the room casts light onto Dean’s outline. The dark shadow of him portrays his psyche and state of mind perfectly. Sam flips the light switch and the sudden brightness makes your eyes water. The three of you begin to clean the remnants of movie time snacks and Sam says good night. Dean’s eyes are vacant as the two of you get ready for bed.

“Dean, are you ok? That movie didn’t give you flashbacks or anything, right?” His soul seems to snap back into his body and he looks at you.

“It reminded me of how little dad did for us when Sammy and I were super little. I was the one stealing and fighting and scratching to provide for that kid. Dad would have up and abandoned us if we were those people in the movie. That’s all.” You card your fingers through his hair and he rests his head on your shoulder. You rub a hand up and down his back. The muscles in his shoulders relax and he practically sinks into you.

“Your dad is where he belongs, Dean. Don’t let that get to you. You’ve got me and you’ve got Sammy.” He sighs heavily and lifts his head from your shoulder. You give him a small smile and cup his cheek. He turns his head and kisses your palm.

“Time for bed. I think Sammy’s got a lead on a hunt we can check out tomorrow.” You both climb into bed and Dean falls asleep clinging to your hand like a scared child.

The next day brings a long road trip across the states. Headed for a little town in New Jersey, Sam gives you the rundown on what you’ll be looking into.

“New Jersey? If you tell me we’re going after the Jersey Devil, I’m getting out of this car.” Sam arches an eyebrow.

“We’re in a moving car.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time Sammy.” Dean catches your eye in the rearview mirror and you share a look. He chuckles and gives Sam an elbow.

“Lighten up dude. Tell us what we’ve got and quit being an ass.” Sam explains the case and you sit back to ponder the details. _This sounds like something straight out of one of those supernatural tv shows. Something like Ghost Adventures except these things are actually killing people instead of scaring the bejesus out of Zak Bagans._ The Impala stops outside of a spooky abandoned house and Dean turns the car off.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. This is what we’re investigating? God, somebody call the Ghostbusters. The cliche is too much.” The three of you get out and begin to gear up. Sam mimes wrappings his fingers around your throat and you laugh. The trunk creaks open and it’s time to gear up. Guns are checked, loaded, and holstered. Flashlights come out and are checked. Pockets loaded with spare ammo and pouches of salt.

The porch steps scream underneath your feet and the sound is piercing in the quiet. You swivel your head, looking, because it’s suddenly gotten deadly silent. No birds singing and no leaves rustling. _Freaky._ The three of you stack up at the front door and Dean’s hand lands on the knob. Sam holds up three fingers and slowly counts down. When he reaches zero Dean flings open the door. You and Sam sweep inward checking every corner. Waving Dean forward, you check a side room. It appears to have once been the kitchen.

“Clear!” The boys echo you until Dean shouts something that comes out garbled. His cry is cut off by a piercing scream and you dash towards the source of the sound. Sam joins you in the hallway and you both go sprinting for Dean. You nearly crash into the wall as you put the brakes on to swerve into what used to be the master bedroom. Dean is on his knees in the middle of the room covering his eyes.

“DON’T LOOK AT IT! DON’T LOOK! DON’T LOOK!” You duck your head and keep your eyes on the floor in front of you. You head for Dean, trying to keep your ears pricked for any kind of movement. Dean’s hands are covered in oozing scratches. You grab him underneath the arm and pull him to his feet. He keeps his hands over his eyes and shuffles in front of you. You keep your eyes on his boots and pray that he doesn’t run into anything. Sam grabs him by the arm and pulls him out of the room. You shut the door behind you and finally look up. Sam is looking at you with worried eyes and you shrug.

The two of you guide Dean out of the spooky house and out towards the Impala. He won’t uncover his eyes and he hasn’t said anything past his initial screams. Sam opens the passenger side door and you sit Dean down.

“Uncover your eyes for me baby. Let me see.” With you and Sam pulling on his hands, you pry his fingers away from his face. You gasp and almost drop to your knees at the sight of Dean’s face. His candy apple eyes have faded. They’re clouded over and look haunted. His face is covered in scratches. His body language changes as soon as you lock eyes. His muscles tense and his shoulders bunch up. He launches himself at you and it’s everything you can do to keep his hands away from your throat.You press a forearm into his throat and strain everything you have to push him away. Sam grabs him and a low snarl forms in Dean’s throat. After a lot of effort, heaving, and panicking Sam manages to get Dean off of you. He clocks his brother upside the head with the butt of his pistol and Dean falls to the ground. Sam offers his hand and you pull yourself up. The back of your head throbs and your neck is beginning to ache from the whiplash of your fall. You breathe out and put your hands on your hips. Looking down at Dean, you wonder what you’re going to do.

“We need to take him to Bobby. At least lock him in the panic room until we can figure out what the fuck is going on with him.” Sam nods and glances towards the trunk. His eyes ask what he can’t say and you nod. “Probably for the best. We’ve got zip ties don’t we?” Sam digs the zip ties out and you remove all the weapons from Dean’s person. The peaceful look on his face doesn’t betray what’s going on inside and you pray that Bobby will have an answer. Several zip ties and a lot of heaving later, Dean is stowed in the trunk of his beloved Baby. You wince to think about what he would say if he was conscious. Sam agrees to drive and you curl up in the passenger seat. You begin to think long and hard about the events of the day. Dean was fine up until he stepped into that room. He saw something, you’re sure of it.

The drive to Bobby’s is a long and torturous one. Dean comes into consciousness several times and Sam has to pull the car over to put him out again. It hurts you every time you hear him snarl and yell. His screams are pulling on your heart strings and it sends physical pain through you. When you pull into the lot outside Bobby’s house the man himself is waiting for you.

“Where’s Dean? He’s not dead again is he? That idjit.” A blurt laugh slips free from your lips and you shake your head. You get out of the Impala and motion for Sam to pop the trunk. He does and you gesture Bobby over. He curses when he sees the Christmas present all tied up in the boot of the Impala. “That bad huh? Well, haul him inside and we’ll put him in the panic room downstairs. That’ll hold him until we figure out what the hell is going on.” You and Sam grunt and pant with effort as you carry Dean into the house, down the stairs, and into the panic room. He begins to gain consciousness when you set him down on the bed and you gesture for Sam to get the hell out. You shut the panic door behind you just as Dean hauls himself off the cot. He pounds on the metal door and his screams are low and guttural. You wince with every smack of the door and step away from the metal cage.

Days turn into weeks and the three of you have poured over every book you can find. You’re exhausted both mentally and physically when you finally decide on the one decision Dean wouldn’t want you to make. You step outside Bobby’s house into the auto yard and make your way through the maze of cars until you’re far enough away not to be overheard. You pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts until you find them. Hitting the call out button and raising it to your ear, you wait anxiously while the phone rings. 

“Hello, dearie. What can I do for you?” A Scottish brogue croons on the other end causing shivers to erupt down your spine.

“Rowena, I need your help. Something’s happened to Dean and I want to know if you’ve got a spell that might help me out.”

“Well, what’s happened to our dearest Dean.” You tell her of the house in New Jersey and Dean’s behavior after the fact. You tell her of how his eyes looked and how feral he’s become. She hums on the other end of the phone and you can hear her shuffling through papers. “I do have something that will work. It seems as though he encountered something that has infected his mind. Removing the memory of that encounter will work but it will remove every memory of the past year. You wince, leaning your head back against a rusty car.

“What will it cost me, Rowena? With you there’s always a price.”

“Oh just a favor dearie. Nothing much.” You snort and agree to the price. Rowena says she will be there momentarily and you hang up the phone. You walk back towards the house and contemplate what you’ve just done. When you arrive back at the porch Bobby is standing there with his arms crossed.

“You just did something stupid didn’t you?” You don’t even try to deny it and nod. A swirl of energy follows this and a pair of black boots appear next to yours. In those boots is the wicked and red-haired Rowena. Bobby curses and his back hits the screen door. “You called her?” The outrage in his voice is thick, but he sighs in resignation. “Come in you wicked woman. Don’t touch anything. You’re only here to help Dean. Do anything else and I will kill you where you stand.” She barks out a laugh and rolls her eyes.

“There’s no need for threats. I’m here on good terms. You have my word that I won’t try to harm or maim anyone in the house while I’m here.” She steps past you and struts her way up the front steps. “If you’ll excuse me. I’ll get to work.” Bobby moves to the side and Rowena pulls the creaking screen door open letting it slam closed behind her. Sam’s yelp of terror tells you that he’s seen her.

“Come on Bobby. Let’s make sure she gets to where she needs to go.” You follow the witch inside and lead her down the steps towards the panic room. 

“He’ll need to be out of that room in order for me to work any kind of spell. Tie him to a chair, knock him out, I don’t care what you do. He just can’t be in that room. Not with that amount of warding.” You try to slide the hatch on the door to the side as quietly as possible to get a glimpse inside. Dean is sitting on the cot, his back facing you. You let out a breath and close the hatch back. You describe where he’s sitting to Sam and you two make a plan. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and on the count of three swing the panic room door open. Dean flies off the cot and Sam wrangles him to the ground. You sweep in after him and get the zip ties on Dean, tying both his hands and his feet together so he can’t hurt anyone. He snaps his teeth at you so hard you can hear them clack together and it makes you wince. You stick a washcloth in his mouth and hope that works. The two of you drag Dean out of the panic room and set him in the chair sitting in the middle of the room.

Sam secures him to the chair and the two of you step back as Rowena paints a circle on the floor around Dean. You don’t know if you want to witness what’s about to happen but you know that as Dean’s husband you have an obligation to stay. You sit through the ritual and have to physically stop yourself from intervening when Dean begins to thrash. Rowena throws a knowing look over her shoulder.

“This bit is normal. I’m just removing all that bad stuff.” You nod and swallow hard, trying not to burst into tears at the sight of him in pain. He sags against his bonds and his chin hits his chest. “Should be done. He’ll wake up in a lot of confusion and he’ll be very bleary. The next time I call, handsome, you better come running.” She packs up her bag and her heels thump as she ascends the steps.

“Let’s get him out of those ties Sammy. At least set him down on the floor or something. I feel bad just leaving him to sag there in the middle of a ritual circle.” Bobby hands you a knife and you saw through the zip ties around Dean’s ankles and wrists. Working together, you and Sam set Dean down on the floor. “You two can go upstairs. I want to stay down here with him until he wakes up.” A few hushed words are exchanged between Bobby and Sam and you hear the two of them climb the steps to the main level. You lay your head on Dean’s chest and let the rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a state of relaxation. You curl your fingers around his and whisper, “I hope you still remember how much I love you D.” You close your eyes and listen to Dean’s heartbeat until you doze away.

Rough hands shove you away and you startle awake. You roll into a defensive position, pulling your pocket knife and holding it close to your body. Your eyes focus on your attacker and you lower the knife slightly when you see him.

“Dean? Baby? Are you ok?” He lowers his weapon and climbs to his feet, his face awash with relief.

“Thank God it’s you. Where are we and how did I get here?” You explain to Dean the events of the last week and his face turns sour. His eyes alight on your hands and he spots the ring on your finger. “When did you get married?” He then sees the matching ring on his finger and looks puzzled. “When did I get married?” Footsteps behind you let you know that the others have joined you.

“We’ve been married for about 6 months now Dean. We got married in a small little church. Sam was there, so was Bobby and Cas. It was a small but beautiful ceremony and then we went and took out a monster nest afterwards.” Dean narrows his eyes and looks over your shoulder presumably at his brother. Whatever Sam did apparently confirmed your account of events and Dean looks down at the concrete.

“I would never get married. Anyone in this line of business knows better than to get married. It always ends in heartbreak and tragedy. I don’t know who you got married to but it sure as fuck wasn’t me. I’ve never had romantic feelings for you in my life and I don’t think I’m going to start now.” You bite your lip and try to hide the tsunami of emotions that begin to wash over you. You turn away from Dean and hide your face in the crook of your elbow. Your lip begins to quiver and the basement is transformed into a cage that you have to escape from. You push past Bobby and Sam, taking the steps up two at a time. You sprint through the house and stiff arm the screen door. You let it slam behind you and run out into the maze of the auto yard. Losing yourself in the maze of rusty cars you let yourself fall to your knees and weep. You cry so hard you begin to dry heave and the swirling dust that you’ve kicked up coats your tongue. You collapse and curl into the fetal position. You stare at the rusty remains of a long ago relic until you disassociate. You lay there on the dusty ground until long after the sun has set. A flashlight beam plays across your body and you come back into reality. You sit up and look in the direction of the flashlight. They lower the flashlight so that you aren’t blinded. After the spots disappear from your vision, you glimpse Sam’s worried face.

“We’ve been looking all over for you dude. You can’t just run off like that.” You turn away from, staring at the remnants of an auto body.

“He doesn’t remember us Sam. Four years down the drain all because of Rowena. I can’t recover from this. He doesn't remember staring into my eyes on our wedding day and his eyes clouding up with tears. He doesn’t remember the whispered words we exchanged just between the two of us up there at the altar that day. You know what he told me after we had exchanged our vows Sam? That this was the best day of his life and if he could choose to do so he would live it over and over again just to see my smile. HE DOESN’T REMEMBER THE BEST DAY OF HIS LIFE.” Your lips curl back into a snarl and you bare your teeth at him. “How selfish is it of me to only think of him not remembering us? I should be happy that we got him back in one piece and he’s not a feral monster anymore. But what does that do for me? I’ve lost my best friend, my husband, and one of the only people I ever trusted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Your apology is empty and I don’t want it.”


	44. Heaven On The Inside

** Apologies for the shortness. I've been writing but nothing has been coming out very well. Love you all ~ MDM (He/they)**

The exhilarating flush of blood rushing through your body invigorates you. The feel of the wind on your face and the crunch of leaves beneath your feet is like nothing else. The crisp air feels like heaven in your lungs and you could run until you reach the end of the earth. You swerve around a tree and arrive back at the door to the bunker, breathing heavily and flooded with pure joy. You turn the crank and step inside the bunker.

“Hey, Dean! I’m back from my run!” You lean over the banister and look down into the library. Not immediately spotting your bow-legged beau, you make your way down the stairs. You shed your light jacket and hang it on the back of one of the chairs. You peek into every shelf but you don’t spot him. Someone grabs you from behind and lifts you off your feet.

“Motherfucker!” You slam an elbow into their midsection and smash your heel into their knee. They yelp and drop you. Landing on your hands and knees, you slide away from your attacker and pull a knife. You launch to your feet, knife raised and ready to kick some ass.

“Baby, really? I was just trying to surprise you.” Dean is doubled over in pain, his breath coming out in wheezes. You sheathe your knife and rush to him.

“You know better than to surprise a hunter dummy. Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you too bad did I?” He shakes his head and straightens up, the pain still evident on his face.

“ ‘m fine. That’s the last time I sneak up on you.” You wrap your arms around his middle and give him a small squeeze in an apology. He lays his cheek on top of your head and the two of you stand there for several moments just taking in each other and the rare moment of quiet. Dean’s next words are so quiet that you almost don’t catch them.

“I don’t know what I would do without you.” You smile softly and close your eyes. The thrum of your adrenaline is coming down and you revel in this feeling. As a hunter, you never know when your last day will be so you have to take every moment like this that you can.


	45. Nervous Dad Energy

“Alright Dean. You’ve got this. It’s just the grocery store. It’s no big deal.” He takes the keys out of the ignition. He gets out of the car and mugginess of the summer air instantly makes his shirt stick to him. Praying that he remembers how to work the stupid thing, he opens the backseat and attempts to get the baby carrier out of the back. His infant daughter sleeps peacefully and he does his best to get the carrier out without disturbing her. He manages to dislodge it from the base and sighs in relief. He gets the diaper bag out of the backseat and shuts the car door. Slinging a diaper bag over one arm and holding a baby carrier in the other he turns toward his ultimate obstacle, Walmart. He traverses his way across the parking lot and when the cool draft of the air conditioning hits him his shoulders sag a little with relief. He grabs a cart and sets the carrier in the basket hoping that the list you sent him is relatively small otherwise this is going to be tricky. He makes his way past the salon and into the store proper. Pulling out his phone, he goes to the list you sent him and the will to live visibly leave him.

He sighs and begins to navigate through the aisles crossing everything on the list off one by one. He arrives in the baby aisle and stares up and down the shelves at the array of products. Dean peeks down at his stirring infant, praying that she stays asleep, and looks back up at the shelves. He stares down in defeat at his grocery list and dials his husband.

“Hey baby. I can’t talk for long. I have a meeting in like five minutes. What’s up?” Dean explains his conundrum and you laugh. He smiles at the sound of your laugh, the musical sound being stored for later. “Grab a couple of the Pampers preemie size diapers and a thing of the Pampers sensitive baby wipes. Make sure there’s a couple packs of wipes in whatever you grab. Oh hell, I gotta go baby. Love you and kiss the girl for me!” You hang up the phone and Dean is left standing in the middle of the aisle. A small cry starts up from the carrier and Dean curses softly. He unbuckles her restraints and pulls her out of the carrier. Cradling her to his chest and patting her butt he looks for the things you told him to get. Spotting them he snags the diaper packs one at a time. A passing mother spots Dean’s struggle.

“Can I give you some help? Your poor girl looks like she needs some of daddy’s attention.” Baby Winchester is beginning to fuss and Dean rocks on his heels, attempting to soothe her.

“Could you grab a thing of those Pampers sensitive baby wipes. The box with a couple packs in it?” She reaches for the box and puts it in the bottom of his cart. “Thank you so much. This is my first time out alone with her. It’s not too obvious is it?” The mother waves away the thought and tells him that he’s doing a great job so far. Dean gives her an appreciative smile and he then faces the dilemma of how he’s going to steer a full grocery cart and hold his baby at the same time. A Walmart employee sees his dilemma and offers to push the cart for him.

“That would be amazing. Thank you so much. I’m done with shopping. I just couldn’t manage both baby and cart at the same time.” He gives a nervous laugh and the employee smiles sympathetically.

“Trust me I get it. I have a kiddo of my own too. It’s hectic trying to shop with them. Just wait until the little one gets older. You’ll have even more on your hands then.” Dean chuckles.

“I can’t wait.” They make their way up to checkout and Dean manages to set his little girl back in her carrier. Buckling her in and beginning to load the groceries onto the conveyor belt. Dean manages to make it through somehow and makes it back to the car with groceries and baby in tow. Loading everything into the car, he gets the baby strapped into the backseat. He opens the driver side door, slides in, and practically collapses once he’s seated.

“You make life so much better and so much harder at the same time little one.” Dean starts up the car, sends you a text that says he’s headed home, and pulls out of the parking lot. He’s exhausted and could use a nap, but naps come in rare form these days. Let’s hope today isn’t one of those rare days.


End file.
